<^ y< \, »l|V V v - &TIONERS C 1856. THE ENTIRE WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS; WITH AN ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE, AND A CRITICISM ON HIS WRITINGS. TO WHICH ARE FREFIXED, SOME OBSERVATION'S ON THE CHARACTER AND CONDITION OF THE SCOTTISH PEASANTRY. By JAMES CURRIE, M. D. T,;E .'Oo'.t V0LUJ1ES CCM.LFTE I ; OXF,' *"ITH ' • • y . ■ AN ENLARGED AND CORRECTED GLOSSARY 3tahTcrr> 'i-triaon. EMBELLISHED WITH AN ORIGJXAL DESIGXFROM THE COTTER'S SATURDAY SIGHT. LONDON: ALLAN BELL & Co., AND SIMPKIN & MARSHALL ; OLIVERS: BOYD, EDINBURGH; W. CURRY, JCN. & CO., DUBLIN ; AND BANCKS & Co., MANCHESTER. CAPTAIN GRAHAM MOORE, OF THE ROYAL NAVV. When you were stationed on our coast about twelve years ago, you first re- commended to my particular notice the poems of the Ayrshire ploughman, whose works, published for the benefit of his widow and children, I now present to you. In a distant region of the world, whither the service of your country has carried you, you will, I know, receive with kindness this proof of my regard; not perhaps without some surprise on finding that I have been engaged in editing this work, not without some curiosity to know how I was qualified for such aD undertaking. These points I will briefly explain. Having occasion to make an excursion to the county of Dumfries, in the sum- mer of 1792, I had there an opportunity of seeing and conversing with Burns. It has been my fortune to know some men of high reputation in literature, as well as in public life, but never to meet any one who, in the course of a single interview, communicated to me so strong an impression of the fcrce and versa- tility of his talents. After this I read the poems then published with greater in- terest and attention, and with a full conviction that, extraordinary as they are, they affbtd but an inadequate proof of the powers of their unfortunate author. Four years afterwards, Burns terminated his career. Among those whom the charms of genius had attached to him, was one with whom I have been bound in the ties of friendship, from early life— Mr John Syme of Ryedale. This gentleman, after the death of Burns, promoted with the utmost zeal a sub- scription for the support of the widow and children, to which their relief from immediate distress is to be ascribed ; and, in conjunction with other friends of this virtuous and destitute family, he projected the publication of this work for their benefit, by which the return of want might be prevented or prolonged. To this last undertaking, an editor and biographer was wanting, and .Mr Syme's modesty opposed a barrier to his assuming an office for which he was, in otfier respects, peculiarly qualified. On this subject he consulted me ! and with the hope of surmounting his objections, I offered him my assistance, but in vain. Endeavours were used to procure an editor in other quarters, but without effect. The task was beset with considerable difficulties ; and men of established reputa- tion naturally declined an undertaking, to the performance of which it was scarcely to be hoped that general approbation could be obtained, by anv exertion of judgment or temper. ]>KI»1< Wl<.- HI office, rnj |>lay occupation, wen cortainiv little suited ; but iJn- | ><• thought me in other respects not unqualified ; and his solicitations, joined to those of our excellent friend and relation Mrs Dunlop, and of other friend? of the family of the poet, I hare not been able BOW difficulties which would otherwise have been insurmountable, Mr Syme and Air Gilbert Bums made a journey to Liverpool, where they explained and arranged the manuscripts, and arrant;, il Bach a> te em ed worthy of the press. From this visit I derived a de- gree of pleasure which has compensated much of my labour. I had the satis- > faction of renewing my personal intercourse with a much valued friend, and of forming an acquaintance with a man closely allied to Bums, in talents as well as in blood, in whose future fortunes the friends of virtue will not, 1 trust, be uninterested. The publication of this work has been delayed by obstacles which these gentlemen could neither remove nor foresee, and which it would be tedious to enumerate. At length the task is finished. If the part which I have taken shall serve the interest of the family, and receive the approbation of Rood men, I shall have my recompense. The errors into which I have fallen are not, I hope, very important : and they will be easily accounted for by those who know the circumstances under which this undertaking has been performed. Generous minds will receive the posthumous works of Burns with candour, and even partiality, as the remains of an unfortunate man of genius, published for the benefit of his family, as the stay of the widow, and the hope of the fatherless " To secure the suffrages of such minds, all topics are omitted in the writings, and avoided in the life of Burns, that have a tendency to awaken the animosity of party. In perusing the following work, no offence will be received, ex- cept by those to whom the natural erect aspect of genius is offensive ; characters that will scarcely be found among those who are edticateti to the profession of arms. Such men do not court situations of darger, nor tread in the paths of glory. They will not be found in your service, which in our own days, emulates on another element, the superior fame of the .Macedonian phalanx, or of the Roman legion, and which has lately made the shores of Europe and of Africa, resound with the shouts of victory, from the Texel to the Tagus, and from the Tagus to the Nile! The works of Burns will be received favourably by one who stands in the fou-- DHMt rank of this noble service, and who deserves his station. On the land or on the sea, I know no man more capable of judging of the character or of the writings of this original genius. Homer, and Shakspeare, and OsMan, cannot ■• I times recall to your mind the friend who addresses you, and who bids ;ou moide . . 134 100 To Mr Cunningham, 8th August. Aspirations after in- dependence . . ib. 101. From Dr Blacklock, 1st Sep- tember, 1790. Poetical letter of Friendship . . 15£ 102. Extract fromMr Cunningham, 14th October. Suggesting sub- jects for our poet's muse . 13T 105. To Mr Dunlop, November, 1790. Congratulations on the birth of her grandson . ib 104. To Mr Cunningham, 23d Jan. 1791, with an elegy on Miss Burnet of Monboddo* . ib. 105. To Mr Hill, 17th Jan. In- dignant Apostrophe to Poverty 136 106. From A. F. Tvtler, Esq. 12th March. Criticism on Tam o' Shanter ib F. Tytler, Esq. in reply to the abo-* 108. To Mrs Dunlopjlh February, 1791. _ Enclosing his elegy on 137 li 0. Burnet Lady W. M. Constable, acknowledging a present of a snuff-box. 110. To Mrs Graham of Fintry, en- closing " Oueen Mary's Lament" ib. 111. From the Kev. G. Baird, 8th February, 1781, requesting as- sistance in publishing the poems of Michael Bruce . ib. 112. To the Rev. G. Baird, in re- ply to the above . . 139 113. To Dr Moore, 26th February, 1791, enclosing Tam o' Shan- ter, Sec. ib. 114. From Dr Moore, 29th March, with remarks on Tam o' Shan- ter, &c. . . .110 115. To the Rev. A. Alison, 14th Feb., acknowledging his present of the "Essays on the Principles of Taste," with remarks ou the 116. "iV Mr' Cunn'inghairi, 12th March, with a Jacobite song, &c 141 117. ToMrsDunlop, 11th April. Comparison between female high and humble 11th life 118. To Mr Cunninghar June, requesting his interest for an oppressed friend . ] : 119. From the Earl of Buchan, 17th June, 1791, inviting over our Bard to the coronation of the bust of Thomson oo Ednam hill i 120. To the Earl of Buchan, in reply . . i 121. Frcm the Earl of Buchan, 16th Sept. 1671, proposing a subject for our Poet's muse . 14 122. To Lady E. Cunningham, en- closing " The Lament for James, Earl of Glencairn" . i • lli Am, he. Bta • mind ai'ur mebn itl< n . 1 1/1. From >ir John Hit 1-amenl on James, Karl of Glen- eaJro," . . .li 125. From .\. F. Tythr, K ,,. ■>:,), ihe \> tent . il 1:6. J'u.Mi D.ivi,-. Apology for neglecting her commands- moral reflections . . 11 i .7. lo MrsDunlop, 17th Decern- ber, enclosing " Ihe sang of Death" ii I /"J. to Mrs Dunlop, 5th January, 179.;, acknowledging the present of a cup. . . II I.- William Smellie, 22d January, ii.;ruducing Alls Rid- il. To Mr Cunningham, 3d March, nissions his aims to be cut on a seal — moral rcflec- 132. o Airs Dunlop, 22d August, account of his meeting with Miss I. B , and enclos- ing a song on her 133. To Mi Cunningham, 10th Sept. Wild Apostrophe lo a 134. To Mrs Dunlop," 24th 'Sep- tember. Account of his family "' To Mrs Dunlop. 150 r . Letter of condolence under affliction . lb. i.'ii. T.> Mr, Dunlop, 6th Decem- ber, 1792, with a poem entitled, " The Ri^hi., "i Woman" . ib. 1.-7. To .Miss If of York-, 21st March, 1793. Letter of Friend- : .!iin .... 151 13S. To Miss C , August, Character and tempera- ment of a poet • . 152 Jol n Vl'Murdo, Ksq. De- icniber 17'!.". Ki-]i:niiiKiiioiif\ ib. >:,-, 11 , advi i what pl.tv to bespeak .it the Dumfries 1 heatre . 153 voiir of a Flav- or's Benefit • • lb. 142. Extract toMr , 1794. On his pro.- peels in the Excise ib. i I",. To Mrs It III. 'I . i 1 lings . 151 lion on the happiness of Mr — . . . 1= , requesting : B !. lent to a dc- I fi lend - - LS Mr i imningham, '.-.'Mb F. b- 1794. Melai . i —thiering prospect! of a happier world . . i Supposed to be written from " The dead to the living " . \t 152. lo MrsDunlop, 15th Dec.m- . 1795. Reflection.- situation of His family, the same, in London, 20th ber, 1795 154. To Mrs R , 20th January', 17'jii. Thanks for tlie travels ofAnacharsis . . 16a 155. To Mr» Dunlop, ."1st January, 1796. Account of ihe Death of bis daughter, and of his own ill health ... ib 156. lo Mrs R , 4th June, 1796. Apology for not i/oing to the birth-night assembly . . ib 157. To Mr Cunningham, 7th Juh, 1796. Account of his ill- ness ami of his jnjverty — antici- pation of his death . I5S 58. To .Mr- Dunn. Sea-bathing affords little relief . lb, 159. To Mrs Dunlop, 12lh Julv, 1796. Last farewell . lb. FOE vs. _ „ie twa dogs : a tale . . IK! Drink The author's earnest CTJ an I to the Scotch teprecentulTas In ihe House of Commons The Hoi} Fair . . . 16^ 1 it-ath and Dr Hornbook . 171 ..(Ayr . . . 17. Ill,- Ordination ... I the I alt' 17' Address to the Dell . . 17< The death and dying words I Foot Mailie's Elegy To J. S*** 17> 1 I8l Ihe lilp a i temporal} ■ 1 be \ ision the Unco Gnid, c Rigidly Righteous i „,i >.„;,,„'. Kiegy ; Halloween .... The Aul.l to l.i, Auld . . • . \ u Inter Nlgnl The Lament Despondency : an Ode Winter: A Hirge The Cotter's Saturday Night Man was made to Mourn: Dirge .... A Prayer in the Prospect of Death 196 Stanzas on the same occasion . Verses left at a Friend's House . 1 The First Psalm A Prayer .... The first six verses of the Nine- tieth Psalm To a Mountain Daisie . . 1 To Ruin To Miss L , with Beattie's Poems, for a New- Year's Gift Epistle to a Young Friend . 1 On a Scotch Bard gone to the West Indies To a Haggis . . . . 'i A Dedication to G . H , Esq. To a Louse, on seeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church . i Address to Edinburgh . . 5 Epistle to J. Lapraik, an old Scot- tish Bard i celebrated Ruling Epitaph Elder z on a noisy Polemic on Wee johnny for the Author's Father for R. A. Esq. forG. H.E^q. A Bard's Epitaph On Captain Grose's Peregrina- To the same .... 205 Epistle to W. S- Epistle to J. _ John Barleycorn : A Ballad A Fragment,' ' When Guildford good our Pilot stood,' . . il Song, 'It was upon a Lammas Nighty 2C Song, ' Now westlin winds, and slaught'ringguns, . . il Song, * Behind yon hills where Lugar flows,' 2( Green grows the Rashes : A Frag- ment ..... il Song, 'Again rejoicing Nature Song; ' The gloomy Night is gather- ing fast' .... 21 Song, « From thee, Eliza, I must go' il The Farewell, to the Brethren of St James's Lodge, Tarbolton 21 Song, * No Churchman am I for to rail and to write . . it Written in Friar's Carse Hermitage il Ode to the Memory of Mrs , of .... 21 Elegy on Captain Matthew Kender- Lament of Marv Queen of Scots' 2 i To Robert Graham, Esq. of Finery 21 Lament for James, Earl of Glen- Lines sent to Sir John Whitefocrd, with the foregoing Poem . i Tam o' Shanter : A Tale . i On seeing a wounded Hare a fellow had Shot at .... 2: Address to the Shade of Thomson 2 bosom fire, On the death of John M'Leod, Esq i! Humble Petition of Bruar Water 22 On Scaring some Water Fowl . il Written at the Inn in Taymouth 22 at the Fall of Fytr.s . il On the Birth of a Posthumous Child il The Whistle .... 22 Second Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet 22 On ray Early Days il Song, ' In Mauchline there dwells six proper young Belles * . 22 On the Death of Sir James Hunter Blair il Written on the blank leaf of a copy ot the Poems presenttd to an old Sweetheart, then married . il The Jolly Beggars : A Cantata 22 The Kirk's Alarm : A Satire . 22 The twa Herds ... 22 The Henpecked Husband . 23 Elegy on the year 1778 . . il Verses written on the Window of the Inn at Carron • . il Lines delivered by Burns on his Death-bed .... ii Lines delivered by Burns at a Meet- ing of the Dumfries-shire Volun- A Vision ". '. '. '. '. 24 Address to W. Tytler, Esq. . 21 To a Gentleman who had sent a Newspaper and offered to con- tinue it .... 24 On Pastoral poetry . . il Sketch New Year's day . 24 U:i Mr William Smellie . 21 On the Death ot Mr Riddel . a nscription for an altar to indepen- dence il Monody on a Lady famed for her caprice .... it Answer to a Surveyor's mandate 2<. Impromptu on Mrs 's Birth- day 24 To Miss Jessy L . it Extempore to Mr S e . il Dumfries volunteers . . 24 To Mr Mitchell il To a Gentleman whom he had of- fended it On Life, addressed to Col. De Feyster .... il Epitaph on a Tricnd Dinner ..to .Mrs Dun Ion On taking li 5 Written in Friara-Carse Hermitage, on Nithside .... Kpisile to K. Gratis On seeing a Wounded H;.re . 1 kiock . Prologue . Elegj on the late Miss Burnet of Monhoddo 1 . tenelie INDEX TO THE POETRY, IN THE ALPHABETICAL ORDER OP 1 Adieu ! a heart-warm, fond i'J f a' the yowes to the knowe. ! Clarinda, misirt-ss of my MOl • breast 11 A • i «i' little and rantj wi' ib. mair .... • the man, the poorest life . . . 2 _ n — . the fleest, paukie thief ITS i Deluded swain, th«- • . - 1 O'J ])oes haughty Gaul invasion threat i4* 1 1 Duncan Gray came here to woo 860 geon ^ark . 218 - Expect na, Sir, in this narrat: : I ; on Devon bank^ Fair fV your honest, sonde face 2uO Farewell thou sUeam that wind- . . . . 268 Farewell thou fair d»j. lion green earth, and ye skies Fate gave 'he word, the arrow sped 240 Plow gently, sweet Aft on, among thy green braes . . . 239 For lords, or kings I dinna mourn V!30 J 1 Admiring Nature in her grace Adown winding Nith I did v n thee, Eliz . ne is the da*, and nrk's the Again rrjoicing Nature sees Again the silent wheels of time A guid New -year I wish thee, Mag- ; fitch to me a pint o' wine . Green grow the raffles, l > Guid morning to your Had I a cave ou some Hail. Poesj 1 thou Nymph re- *hare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie as auld K seen the Dell IS tar, Land o' Cakes, and brither - in death d s stiff Ah ope, "Lord Gregory, thy door All hail ! inexorable lord Among the heathy hills and ragged woods A nee mair I hail thee, thou gloomy- December .... A rf for ane and twenty. Tarn An honest man here lies at rest 25C Here awa, there awa, wandering Anna, thy charms my bosom tire 219 Willie A rose-bud by my early v.. i,k . .\:4 The same altered As down the bum they took thiir Here Souter way '-'77 sleep .... As I stood by von roofless tower ! 1 1 He who of R— k-n sang, li i- and her lambs thegithcr 177 and dead .... Awa -wi' your witchcraft o' In auty's Here is the glen, and here the alarms . . . . 241 bower ..... A 1 ye wba live by soups o' drink 1! 'J Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear . where the Scottish Muse im- Behind ion lnhs where Lugai mortal lives flows in ray poor heart be glad Behold the hour, the boat arrll J., low thlr Btanes lie Jamie's bams SIS Blvthe, blythe and mi rrj wni she 232 ■ tree thing, cannl thing But law ' i . . ■ i ', at the close of the nay . . . Ill ( .in -.t tiiou leave nie Lbo . K.ity t bosom which filly once fired How i riu 1 .ire the parental ■ ■ the ni| : w Inding Di took . . . 11 Husband, husband a 1 call no . I lang hae thought, my youthfii' friend 199 I mind it weel, in early date . 223 I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor ib. In Mauchline there dwells sis pro- per young belles . . . 224 In simmer when the hay was mawn 257 Inhuman man! curse on thy bar- barous art .... 217 Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast 230 I sing of a whistle, a whistle of worth 222 Is there a whim-inspired fool . 21 H Is there, for honest poverty . 296 It was the charming month of May 29' It was upon a Lammas night . 208 Jockey's ta'en the parting*kiss . 219 John Anderson my jo, John . 235 Keen blaws the wind o'er Donnocht head 288 Ken you ought o' Captain Grose 250 Kilmarnock wabsters, ridge an' claw 174 Kind Sir, I've read your paper through 243 Know thou, O stranger to the fame 2l S Lament in rhyme, lament in pro^e 177 Lassie wi' the lictwhite locks . 291 Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen .... 302 Late crippled of an arm, and now a leg 211 Let me wander where I will . 282 Let not a woman e'er complain 289 Let other poets raise a fracas . 1 ■ Long, long the night . . 29S Loud blaw the frosty breezes . 251 Louis, wh.it reck I by thee . 240 Mark yonder pen, pa Maxwell, if merit here you crave 287 Musing on the roaring ocean . 252 Mv Chloris, mark how green the groves 290 My curse upon your venom'd slang 219 Mj heart is a-breaking, dear lit- lie 255 My heart is sair, I darena tell . 240 Mj honoured Colonel, deep I feel 21$ My lord, I know v.. U r nobie ear 220 Mv loved, mv honour'd, much re- spected friend . . . 195 My Peggy's face, my Peegy's form 2:0 Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair 215 No churchman am I for to rail and to write 211 No more of your guests, be they titled or not .... 247 No more, ve warbiers of the wood, no more 215 Now in her green mantle blvthe nature arrays .... 295 Now Nature hangs her mantle green 213 Now simmer blinks oa flowery braes ' 251 Now spring has clad the grove in green "00 Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers 275 Now westlin' winds and slaughter- ing guns 208 O a' ye pious godly flocks . . 229 O bonny was yon rosy brier . 301 O cam ye here the right to shun 244 O condescend, dear charming maid 2S2 O death I thou tyrant fell and bloody 212 O gin my love were yon red rose 269 Ufa' the airts the wind can blaw 254 O had the malt thy strength of mind 24S Oh open the door, some pity to show 263 O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten . . . . . 265 _ Lassie art thou sleeping yet . 297 O leeze me on mv spinning wheel 237 O leeze me on my wee thing . 259 Old Winter with his frosty beard 247 O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide 269 O love will venture in where it. darena weel be seen . . 258 O Mary, at thy window be . 263 O May, thy morn was ne'er sae -weet ..... 241 mirk, mirk is this midnigb.tb.OTUr 262 mickle thinks my love o" my beauty . 236 O my luve's like a red red rose . 24 1 Once fond'.v loved, and still remem- ber'ddear .... 224 O poortith cauld, and restless love 260 O Philly, happy be that day . ^ 293 Opuress'd with grief, oppress'd with care 1 O rough, rude, ready-witted R — Orthodox, orthodox, wha believe John Knox .... O saw ye bonnv I.esly . . O saw ye my dear, my Phely . O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, 192 201 i • >' wind and r; O tell i O this is no mv air. lassie . . i O Thou dread' Power who retgn'st O Thou Great Being, what thou ib. O Thou pale otbi that silent shines 191 O Thou, the first, the greatest friend 197 O Thou unknown. Almighty Cau^e 196 O thou ! whatever title suit thee 176 O Thou who kindlv dost provide 250 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day 241 249 O wha is she that 1< O were I on Parnassus' hill . zo* O were my love von lilach fair . 270 O whistle and ill come to you, my lad 273 A variation in the chorus . . 300 O Willie brew'd a peck o ? maut 254 O wert thou in the cauld blast . 247 O ye wha are sae guid yoursel . 183 O ye whose cheek the tear of pity llight Sir ! jour text I'll prove it Sad thy tale, thou idle page . 2 Sae flaxen were her ringlets . 21 •Scot-, wha hae wi' Wallace bled 2 Seii-ibility how charming . . 2 She is a winsome wee thing . Si She's fair and Cause that causes my Thicke in B ' :■'} Should auld acquaintance b= forgot 278 Sing on, sweet thrush, upon thy leal- less bough . . . . 217 Sir, as ycur mandate did request 216 Sleep's! thou, or wakest thou, fairest 289 Slow spreads the gloom my soul de- sires ..... 239 Some books are lies frae end to end 170 Stop, passenger ! my story's brief 213 >Sta\, niv charmer, cjn you leave me 231 Sn , my Willie— yet believe me 291 Streams that gliue in orient plains 43 Sweet fa's the eve on Cragie-bum 2L>G Sweet ilow'ret, pledge o' meikle The Calrine woods were yellov The day returns, my bosom burns The fiicnd whom wild from wis dom's way .... The gloomy night is gath'ring fast 210 The hunter lo'es the meniing sun 2bU Hie lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare 224 Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon . . 298 The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill .... 233 The lovely lass o' Inverness . 240 The man, in life, wherever placed 197 The poor mail weeps— here G n The simple Bard, rough at the rus- tic plough .... The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning The smiling spring comes in rejoic- ing The Min had closed the winter day ISO The Thames Hows proudly to the 235 '1 here's suld Rob .ilorris that w in yon glen . . . . 2t l.i aw, braw lads on Yarrow hraes 2< There was ■ lass and she « - There was once adaji but old Time li.tiyojiig ... 'J 1 re three kings into the night o'erhangs my dwell- 251 I, my faithful fair . Thine be the volumes, Jes>» fair 247 This dav, 1 inu winds th' exhausted chain 214 Thou hast left me ever, Jamie . 27-i Thou of an independent mind . 24 5 Thou sweetest minstrel of the groTe 282 '1 hou whom chance may hither lead 211 Thou, who thy honour as thy God 215 'Tis friendship's pledge, mj young fair friend . . . . 30 1 to Crochallan came . 245 'Twas e'en, the dewy fields were 'Twasin thai place o' Scotland's isle }63 True hearted was he, the sad swrun o' the Yarrow 2(74 Turn again, thou fair Eliza . 2.37 -- her bonnie blue e*e was _ my n I S Upon a simmer Sunday mo Upon that night, when fairies light 1S5 We cam na here to view jour \\ . rk .-. 'z3U Wee, modest, crimson-tipped (lower 19S Wee, sleek.it, cow'rin, tiin'rous beastie 189 What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie . • . 23(5 When biting 1 oreas fell and doure 189 When chapman billies leave the street ..... 215 251 When (iuilford good our pilot stood 207 Wlun Iva. : e \ird 225 When o''er the hill the eastern star 266 Wh.n wild war's deadly blast was blawn 365 Where are the joys I hae met in the morning The same with an additional stanza 280 Where braving nngrj winter's 2"2 202 While larks with little wing . While new-ca'd kye rout at the stake ..... While virgin spring, by Eden's tleod gi7 U iule \sinils li'.ie .itl'Tien Lomond bliw 190 Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know 218 \\ liv 1111 1 loath to leave this earthly 1Y6 Wh\, why tell thy lover . . BOS \\ h'v, ve leiKintsof the Like V.-.S Mary 257 1 'Mh0U be . . With musing deep, astonisb'd stare 182 Ye banks, and braes, &c. . 258 Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon '258 Ye Irish lords ... 166 MR THOMSON AND MR BURNS. 1. Air Thomson to Mr Burns. 1792. Bard to furn: . » of the ScotL airs, and to revise former songs 255 2. Mr B. to Mr T. Promising as- 3. Mr T. to Mr B. With some tunes 256 4. Mr B. to MrT. With 'The Lee Rig,' and ' : Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary* . . ib. 5. Mr B. to Mr T. With "My ■wife's a winsome wse thing,' and ' O saw ye bonny Lesley' . 257 6. Mr B. to Mr J'. With ' High- land Mary' .... 258 7. Mr T. to Mr B. Thanks and critical observations . . 259 8. Mr B. to Mr T. With an addi- tional stanza ' The lee Rig* ib. 9. Mr B. to Mr T. With 'Auld Rob Morris' and 'Dunean Grav' 2C0 10. Mr B. to Mr T. With 'O Poortith Cauld,' &c. and'Galla Wate ib. 24. .Mr B. to Mr T. With ' Blythe hae I been on yon hill' $ . 25. Mr B. to Mr T. With *0 Logan, sweetly didst thou glide' — ' O gin my love, J &c. . 26. Mr T. to Mr B. Enclosing a note— Thanks ! 27. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' There was a lass and she was fair ' . 28. Air B. to Mr T. Hurt at the idea of pecuniary recompense — Remarks on songs Mr B. Musical ex- 271 Mr T. For Mr 11. Mr T. to Mr B. Jan. 1793. Desiring anecdotes on the origin of particular songs. Tytler of Woodhouselee— Plevel— sends P. Pindar's ' Lord Gresorv.' Post- script from the Hon'. A. Krskine 261 12. -Mr B. to Mr T. Has Sir Tel- ler's anecdotes, and means to give his own— sends his own • Lord Gregory' . . 2G2 15. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' Mary Morrison* .... 263 14. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' Wan- dering Willie' ... ib. 15. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' Open the door »o me, Oh !' . ib. 16. Mr B. to Mr T. With • J^sie' 261 1 7. Mr T. to Mr B. With a list of songs, and ' Wandering Willie' altered .... ib. 18. Mr B. to Mr T. ' When wild war's,' &c. and* Meg o' the Mill' 265 19. Mr B. to Mr T. Voice of Coila— criticism— Origin of 'The Lass o' Patie's Mill" . . ib. 20. Mr T. to Mr B. . . 267 21. Mr B. to Mr T. Simplicity re- quisite in a song — one poet should not mangle the 'works of another ib, 22. Mr B. to Mr T. ' Farewell, thou stream that winding flows' — Wishes that the national music mav preserve its native features 26S 23. Mr T. to Mr B. Thanks and observations ... ib. 29. Mr pression 30. Mr B. Clarke .... 274 31. Mr B. to MrT. With ' Phillis the fair' .... ib. 32. Mr T. to Mr B. Air Allan- Drawing from ' John Anderson 33 D M J r°B. to .MrT. With 'Had I '.' a cave,' &c. borne airs common to Scotland and Ireland . ib. 34. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' By Al- lan straam I chanced to rove* 273 35. Mr B. to Mr T. With 'Whis- tle and I'll come to you, my lad, - and -Awa wi'your bellesand your beauties' .... ib 36. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' come let me take thee to my breast* 274 37. Mr B. to Mr T. * DaintieDavie' <75 38. Mr T. -to .Mr B. Delighted with the productions of Burns' muse ib. 39. Air E. to Air T. With ' Bruce to his troops at B.innockburn' ib. 40. Air B. to Ml T. With 'Be- hold the hour the boat arrive' 'J76 41. Air T.to AlrB. Observation* on ' Bruce to his troops' . ib. 42. Air B. to Air T. Remarks on songs in Air T.'s list—His : own method of forming a song— ' Thou hast left me ever, Jamie' — ' Where are the joys I hae met in the morning'— ' auid Iangsyne* 277 43. Mr B. to Air T. With a varia- tion of ' Bannockburn' . 279 44. Air T. to Air B. Thanks and 45. Air B. to Air T." ' On Ban- I nockburn*— sends * Fair Jenny' 280 46. Mr B. to Air T. With ■ Delud- i ed swain, the pleasure'— Remarks 281 47. Air B. to Air T. With ' Thine | ami, my faithful fair' — 'O con- : descend, dear charming maid' — — ' The nightingale'—' Laura — I (the three last by G. Turnbull) i!> 45- Air T. to Mr B. Apprehen- sions—Thanks . . . 283 : 49. Air B. to Air T. With 'Hus- band, husband, cease your smie' 1 and ' Wilt thou be mv dearie* ib. 50. Air T. to Air ancholy eomi i-Ji. Bums and Cnrlini— Mr Allan has begun .1 sketch Iron, the Cot- tar's Saturday .N iKlit . '/ SI. MrB. to Mr 1. Braise of Mr Allan—' Hanks of< J. Ml II. I.. .Mr T. Hovel in France—' Here «1. tish Muse Immortal live-.,' pre- sented to Miss Graham of Fin- 53. Ml T. to Mr*B. 'Does' not ex- pect to hear from I'level BOOD, hut desires to be prepared Willi the poetry .... 51. MrB. to MrT. With < On the seas and far away' :,:,. Mr T. u. .Mr li. Criticism ! 66. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' ( .V the yowes to the knowes' 57. .Mr B. to MrT. With 'She says she loes of a'—' O let me in,' &c Stanza to Dr Maxwell 286 58- Mr T. to Mr B. Advising him to write a Musical Drama . ! 50. Mr T. to Mr B. Has boerj ex- amining Scottish collections — Ritson— Difficult to obtain an- cient melodies in their original state 60. Mr B. K. Mr U . producing a love-song — ' Jjaw jo -"J he lover's the nighf- complain'- ing salute to his mistnss'— ' The Auld Man'—' Keen blaws the wind o'er Donnochthead,' in a note CI. Mr T. to Mr I knew the inspiring Fair One— Ritson's historical t».iv not inte- resting— Allan— Maggie I.auder 290 G i. .Mr ii. to Mr T. Has begun his Anecdotes, &c — * My Chloris mark how green the groves' — £ove — ' It was the charming month of May'—' Lassie wi' the lint-white locks'— History of the Air • Ye hanks and braes o' bon- ny Doon'— James Miller— Clarke —The black key; — Instances of the difficult v ol inning tlic origin of ancient airs ... ib. 63. Mr T. to Mr B. With three copies of the Scottish a r, . 292 CI. Mr B. to Mr T. With 'O l'hilly, happy be thai da> — starl- ing note— ' Contented wi' little, and canlie wi' mair- thou leave me thus, inv Kalv'— (The reply, 'Stay my Willht— vet believe me,' in a noti and horn .... i, -j. Mr I. to Mr 1(. 1'rais, | more tongs of the bumnrotu cast IVelll • The Soldier's Return' B. to Mr T. \\ 'ill, >Mj Nannie's a* a* . . . lb. 67. Mr 1!. to Mr I . •■ :, - '. Mr li. to Mr T. 'O lassie, art Uiou sleeping yet,' and the He I. 'Dispraise of Kctlefechan' . . . ib. ■ir B. Thanks . ib, ~l. Mr B. to MrT. 'Address to the Woodlark'— ' On Chlori. be- ing il.'— 'Their groves o' sweet myrtle,' Ace, — ' Twas na her bon- ny blue e'e,' Arc. . . S9i 73. Mr T. to .Mr B. With Allan', design from * The Cottar's Satur- dav Nighf .... 'IV. 7 1, MrB. to .Mr T. With ' How- cruel are the parent*,' and '.Mark yonder pomp of costly 75. Mr B. to Mr T. Thanks for Allan's dosigns ... Ib 76. .Mr 1. to. Mr B. Compliment ib 77- MrB. to MrT. With an irn- .. provement in ' Whistle and I'll come to you, my lad' — no my ain lassie' — ' iN'ow Spring has clad our groves ho bonny was yon rosie brier' — • 1 is Friendships pledge, my young, fair friend' • . * . ."l> 78. Mr I. to Mr B. Introducing Dr Brianton . . . 3'' li). lMr B. to Mr T. « Forlorn my love, no comfort near* . it SO. Mr li. to Mr T, • Bast May a braw,' &c. — ' Why, why tell tliy gment . '. • 30 81. MrT. to Mr li. . . II 82. Mr 1. to Mr li. 1796. After an awful pan^e S3. MrB. to MrT. Thanks fori'. Findar, Ac ' Hey for a lass wi' 'l 84. Mr T. to Mr B. Allan has de- signed someplatesfor anSvo. eea( of l«u unsuoee.-sful attempts to restore of taste in ever." " 'is. Ti,e a comparative ir -.i^uilit; ; a..d it'is since- this tress of his infant family, 'have been felt in a ' measure formed, though been known : and these posthumous voium.es. to the preuous acts of ber separate legislature, which give to the world his works complete, A slight acquaintance with the peasantry of mid which, it is hoped, may raise hi* widow Scotland, will serve to convince an unpreju- nud children from penury, are printed and pub- diced observer, that they possess a degree of lished ill England. It seems proper, therefore, intelligence not generally found among the- same to write the .Memoirs of his life, uot with the class of men in the other countries of Europe, riew of their being read bv Scotchmen only. In the verv humblest condition of the Scottish been represented to be, a Scottish peasnnt. dialect, a Btranger will discover that they pos- To render the incidents of his humble story sess a curiosity, and have obtained a degree of generally intelligible, it seems, therefore, ad- information, corresponding to these acquire- acter and situation of the order to which he These advantages they owe to the legal pro- bclonjed.—a class of men distinguished bymany vision made by the parliament of Scotland in more correct notion of the- advantages with eic-ry parish throughout the kingdom, for the surmounted. A few observations on the Scot- which may challenge comparison with any act tish peasantry will^ot, perhaps, be found of legislation to be found in the records of his- : ''•cot- ends' in view, the" simplicity of the means em- ire ; meansWectual to their purpose. This exce!- dent nation, has been successfully explored. Charles II. in IGoO, together with all tha then formed; the nation then presented features ral assent It similar to those which the feudal system and slept during the reifns of Charles and James, inodilied, indeed, by the peculiar ua'ure of Ler tv the Scottish parliament, after the Revolution territory and climate. The Reformation, by in 1696 ; and this is the last provision on the by a Access ,„ of the Scotti sh m'o'uarchs to the per : od o" t" Tile uglish throne; and th a period which . •h th rendered memorable, c ihielly by those inordinary m\Movr> cabinet Lmmrir. ■ peciailj as ill'- Mlbj.:ct I lb-.- notice of .ill 111.' historians. By an act of the king (James VI. council, of the 10th of December, 11 illli the heritors (land proprieto rs). =nd the ipeclive parishes in their espective dioceses. d, and sure course" for etiling and entert ining a sch larish. This was ra titled by a st; ap. 5.)whir uteofChar. . (the act, 1U33, ct empowered he bishop, with the consent of th ■ heritor, of a parish, or of a mojority of the it habitants, if he heritors refused assess every plough of land ftl arm, in proportion o the numbe upon ,1) with a certn school. This was a i inetl'ectual lepending on the co nsent and pi modify a salary for The salary is ordi presbytery of the .1; i uiuinuti.ni of the person proposed committed tc ih. in, boUl M i" In- qualification and as la fa ; in the ollici il therefore Only a presentment ol the approbation of the presbyter! ; who, if they find bun unfit, m i] declare hie ini thus oblige them 10 elect nin.\. ti.m.il.le authority. * inconsiderable al the tin. the decrease in the value of moo paiufal'to observe, iliut the landholders of Scotland r. will be 1.6189 Bterlinr. U »ages paid by the scholars to amount this sum, which is probably beyond the truth, the total of the expences anion; 1,586,499 p'rsons (the whole population of Scotland) of this most important establishment rill be L. 18,417. But on this, as well as on ither subjects respecting Scotland, accurate in- formation may soon be expected ban - i Sinclair's Analysis of his Statistics, which will - I to his patriotism. The benefit arising in Scotland from the m- ruclion of the poor, was soon felt ; and by an :t of the British parliament, i Geo. 1. , it is enacted, •• that of the mo from the sale of the Scottish estat. -. """ of 1715, L. 2,000 sterling shall to a capital stock, the interest of ling schools in the Highlands. The Society propagating Christian Knowledge, incor- porated in 170'J, have applied a lar^e part of their fund for the same purpose. B port, 1st May, 1 795, the annual sum employed try them, in supporting Iheii schools in the lii-blan.is iin.l Ulan -. 1U.;. in which are taught the Ku^i.-ii reading and writing, and the prin. •', ligion. The schools of the society are addi- tional to the legal schools, which, from the Lre.it extent of n roftheH ...j, parishes, were found insufficient. Besides these estab- lished schools, the lower classes of people in I re the parishes are la combine together, and establish private schools oftli.il own, at one of which it was that Burns red the principal part of his education. So peopi. al part ol xperience, of the 1 it though they may o ■"■'■.'' of the .uiraos Whether a s)>tem of national the poor be favourable to mi government ? In the year 161 this day in Scotland, two hui people begging from door to duoi ill.- number of them be perhaps .1 waa formerly, b> raaaoo ne then prevailed) yet been about one hundred thi lathers ince.ln own .1 in -bier.. Ill- son with tile ili.- brother will, the -i ■■ - ... ili.it ii . in though n bap., mem. The clergyman, being every wheif Vi.-iilont in his particular parish, Iic-nm the :. antral [iatri.ni and =u[Hrinleniiaiit of the parish they are lo be pettrally t!mi lighting tua'et; EVENS PREFATORY REMARKS. school, " that he woul. I," Ih'Jught th Scotland. We have the best authority for i'l.-ccitiiii: the vear IT!) 7. the execution.- in that division of the island did not amount to six annually ; and one quarter-sessions for Ihe (own of Manchester only, lias sent, according lo Mr Hume, more felons to the plantations, than all the judges of Scotland usually do tnpl i t iniiilt a cul itii.n of the man i Manchester and i di!V, injority of those who sutler the punishmer md are, it is believed, is tl f ignorance. There is now a legal provision for parochii •bools, or rather tor a school in each of tli 3rt of the teacher, icy of the scholars. The teac! n a candidate for holy orders, long course „f study and probi be spared from his prdfessi the respectable character of a : submit to much privation, that they may obtain, for one of their sons at least, the precarious advantage of a learned education. The difficulty s place to inquir. empt any precis. subjects of this whole favourabb motion. A human being, in pro- measure was entirely frustrated, iritj of character between the ivi.ua. i! Of t iubt increased by physic: North America. They are, however, of recen origin there, excepting in .New England, when they were established'in the last century, pro bably about the same time as in Scotland, ani bv the t ame religious sect. In the Protestan northern parts ol instruction of the land; but the fund vY . _ . /i p. 50. ness, the peasantry of those parts of England are who have opportunities of instruction, tu The peasantry of Westmoreland, and of ths ■ llier districts mentioned above, if their physi- cal and moral qualities be taken together, arc, in the opinion of the Editor, superior tvl Uie peasantry of any part of the islpjid. I i.innutY. portion as he U informed, lino his wish' I tfviug those Ha may be considered M taking with- iu the sphere of liii vision a Is-.- the globe on which «ri ir. ad. an.. vantages m n greater dial • llii-. faculty, often acuuire, in ihe uiind of the youthful adventurer, an attraction from their very distance and uncertainty. If, therefore, a great degree of instruction be given to the peasantry of a country comparatively poor, in Die neighbourhood of oth.r cm.-, natural and acquired advantnge, ; and if the barriers be removed that kept i hem separate; emigration from the former to the latter will rhichlientdilluws itself h i.y wind natural course. By thi , the barrier was broken the two British nations, turous natives ofthe north over the fertile ] of lliiirlaml, and more especially, over the colo- nics which she hud settled iii the Kast and in the West, 'flie stream of population coin' to flow from the north to the south ; foi causes that originally impelled it, continue to operate ; and the richer country is constantly invigorated by the accession of tin informed and hardy race of nun, educated in poverty, and prepared for hardship and dinger, pale.,.! of labour, nnd prodigal of life. • I slip; i, t s are doubtful, where retarded nature, bj tin t of a people facilitate: I, by producing a rela as of subsistence. Tin corn, are pi rbap applii able « lib li lo 111.- tree . xp.nl id ; III.- Mill, III,- -t. it r tin- ulllliv.il i. I I irlh.r ilh.sirat. d .11 a l.il- lull) pin! pin -ii E -.li,- m Poputah .. i Seu'l.iinl has increased in Ihe number of its ■■:-.-■.■- iii lb- nil .1. 'II,,. ,- x . tent of iln- emigration ■ diluted will, number of the Ivy - -.1 tint may be establish,, I pr. Ity exactly by an examination ■■! the invaluable I: wo suppose .1 I, Uinber Of male mid I with tnem the temper as well as i, that celebrsted herniareb. The y 1 estsbli.b- I v. us endeared lo them, also, by the struggle it bad to maintain with the Catholic and the Protectant episcopal churches, ovrr both of which, after a hundred years of fierce, and sometimes bloody conten- tion, it finally triumphed, receiving the coun- tenance of government, and the sanction of law. During this lone period of contention and of uili rui.', th. I. u pr ,.l the people became more ;,nate and bigotted ; and the nation received that deep tinge of fanaticism, which coloured their public transactions as well a* their private virtues, and of wk the public schools were established, the instruc- lioii communicated in them part. • - li.'ious churuc!>.r of tin people. The Csleebi-m I ana Ditriaa »«• '• school-book, and was put into the hands of ihe of Solomon, and the doctrines of the Christian faith. •inbly's Catech.-m. Ike I ' New and Old Testament, • n ; and the scholar kaowMga of ■"'* according t tile interpretation .1 railh. '1 instruction of infancy m the schot are blended ill- and hence the f.rst and most consume c*rui« among the peasantry of Scotland, national creed, is con. in form, of of which would be alloge- . if we did not recollect that the h .iiur.li »er.- formed direct opp. . lo those of Ihe church of Koine. ■i. cities of conduct, and singulsii- .1 c. iiturv. i..r.t..,i a subject lor ill. comic mus - me of the peculiarities among ihe more rigid disciple, of scope lo iheridicltl Ilurus, whose equal to Butler , ; and v.. 1 as the males, thi, mode e-f . aJculalllUF; would probably make the number ot . The ic alive BURNS.— PREFATORY REMARKS. pre . Uufort the strength of his |eni rendered unit for the light.* The information and the religii of the peasantry of So of conduct, and habits of thoujht a —These good qualities are not cot the establishment of poor laws; they reflect credit on the benevol from the wisdom of the Englisl distress of the poor, who by as ich of educatioi ty or'fortTyearl ed. The Scol ody is however radically I e or harmony, it for™ as, ;rohciency. That dancing should which the a which this The winter affected, ai . ; »1] at 111 t item of iustrucl reduction of a 1 poverty ; the e should disease suspend, or labours. Happilv, in Scot- ilature which established a in for the poor, resisted the ** uLjcJ- if t ,,t ; 01] c "\\ ten t r'm Scol from i\- c •• profane r lated by an i:.-t.- m.r ivas establisl ed in lished itch of ecTeTby » or ; and the ■'",'-■ part of the *&. * Holy Willie's Prayer— Rob the Ryraer's Welcome to his Bastard Child— Epistle to J. l.o.ydie-ihe Holy Tulzie, Ssc Alter the labours of the day are oyer, young lin sounds a Scottish air, fatigue seems to vanish, the toil-bent rustic becomes erect, his seems to thr... r. artery to vibrate with life. These rustic performer's are indeed less to be admired for grace, than for agilitT and animation, and their accurate observance of time. Their modes of dancing, as well as their tunes, are common to every rank in Scotland, and are now generally into England, and have established themselves even in the circle of Royalty. In another generation they will be naturalized in every part of the island. - - - rieties, is so t :, - « hich in its livelier strains, awakes those vivid emotions that bnd m dancing their natural solace and relief. This triumph of the music of Scotland over and obstinate struggles. The numerous sec- original doctrines and discipline, universally i M.!, inn III.- practice of dancing, elderly and serious pan i penuasion, tolerate rather than approve in mnaic, where enroll dispelled, foil is forgot- II,. Reformation, which pn.n-d fatal lo the DIAMOND CABOfEl . id the , but could n not only existed previous lo that er taken a firm hold of the nation ; tl " l ,r "" The imprcasioi lias made on tbi ide on tlie people, is deepened by its with Ihe national songs, of which the public. chi,t!. ire; perhaps impossible to give on lb, in in the order of their d such a record of taste and ma not be u-hiiincil. After the I. lours of the day ■re over, he set. out for the huLii.n.n .1 lu's 11,1 li. ,, 1 .. rl, ij. . ««... II . under Ihe door or wiu- , lied again and again, l"l' " 'I" > ['"■' "• 1 i>r - "ill .,l,.j Ihe 1 . tl ids of m: hi. bill ' Imitated or improved. In the art which they eel. brate he was perfectly skilled ; he knew and had practised all fa : I I thii --,rt ia indeed universal, e»en peasantry of a country who are supposed to be mlnonly instructed; who find in their rural songs expressions for their youthful are continually fanned by the breathings of a direct influence of physical causes 00 the at. tacbmenl between the sexes is comparatively small, but it is modified by moral causes beyond music and poetry are the chief. Among the snows of Lapland, and under the burning sun of Angola, the savage is seen hastening to his weariness of bis journey with poetry and song. • In appreciating the happiness and virtue of ■ community, there is perhaps no single cri- lerion on which so much dependence may be mounts on the es the condition in society, our imperfect scale of moral excellence, auu of this single ailection, a stream of felicity de- scends, which branches into a thousand rivulets that enrich and adorn the field of life. >\ here Ihe attachment between the s. x.-s sinks into nu appetite, the heritage of ODJ ntively poor, end man approach, s th of the brutes thai pert'sA. "If we could with safety indulge the pleasing supposition that bin-ill lived and tlj.it U-sian sling.t" Scot. land, judgiug In 111 this criterion, might be considered as ranking high in happiness and virtue in v.i. : r, dale her situation by the same criterion in our own times, Would be a delicate and difficult undertaking. 1 1 ing the probable inl u uoual music, and aa> Illiilllllig h, vv far the .fleets lo be expected from rtad tv tacts, the inquirer won' ' Ij of her ci of .•!, silently uiul slowly, are often poweifully con- trolled. In Ihe point of rUm in which we are ihe subject, the ecclesiastical esta- blishments of Scotland may be aup| > linrly favourable to purity of conduct. Ihe < clergy, which preceded, and in MB Id formation! Ind 1. . 1 with the chu-nu of poetry and music ■ I Gibbon. BURNS PREFATORY REMARKS. the parties themselves fix the date of their e.l with austerity of mam Calvin assumed a greater ment of illicit connexion b throughout all Europe, a clergy assumed to themsel of Scotland, which at the the disciples iage, the condition of the feni itance, that the clergy and eld from the pulpit, for three Sabbaths su in the face of the congregation to belongs, and thus have her weakness lighter the puuishmi this dreadful law, w Calvin and of KnoJ While the punishment of incontinence pre- scribed b\ the institutions of Scotland, is severe, it, afforded them bv the law respecting mar- riage, the validitv uf which n aiires neither the ceremonies of the" church, nor any other c rc- by the parties before witnesses, or in any other way that gives legal evidence of such an ac- knowledgment having taken place. And as * In the punishment of this on Church employed formerly the arm ol power. During the reign of James (James the First of Englaud), criir the subject of a p. 332.) whk disuse. When . {See Hunt oUand, Vol monarchy in both divisions of the island, forr with death in the second instance (See Blac stone, b. iv. chap. 4. Xo. II.). Happily til of Charles II. to whc Jted by the Scottish Parlia- ly that for th( ment, particularly that for the establishment ol parish schools, the statute punishing fornica- if Scotland legitima ore wedlock, on thi heir parents, rende narriage itself of H i ,- but the law Idren born be- Thus, though the institutions of Scotland are in many particulars favourable to a conduct among the peasantry founded ou foresight and reflection, on the subject of marriage the reverse be naturally supposed, are often improvident Dues, in whatever rank of society they occur. ed by their parents, find a certain degree of sES : difficult attainment in tl e, with other circumstaiu ,-ir industry is i ^Island "'" Tni ached Scotland ision of ry and the useful er than England; and has been rapid th?re. the produced are as yet far inferior, both iu and in appearance. The Scottish far- nfons of those of Englaud— neither vest ne return. Their clothing, their food, and Scotland from a very remote period. Thus a marry, enj.e.s all the : In the Parliament of Merton, in the reign of Henry III. the English clergy made a vigorous England, ai a. ad,- I o often appealed to ; Quod nolunt leges Anglice miliar _ q'>ts hue u*que usitatce sunt approbates. With regard to what constitutes a marria-e, the law of Scotland, as explained above, differs from the Roman law, winch required the ccrenionj to be performed in facie t . • Loth ore improving. lmhi-tM sj arts came later into {Scotland il. i land, because ihc security of pi ■ l iiilernal agitation and warfare similar to those which occurred to the II r:i nation, the people of Scotland ur. Occupied in the maiutenance of ill. ir ind ■ ■ and. at certain periods, of their papulation. And when the he crowns produced a security from wars with England for the century succeeding, the of the nre distinctly fell," ai..l Property is secure ; manufactures - increasing, and agriculture in. pr . England ; Lut tli ic landholders, who have seci autages resulting from them contribute towards them with a literal hand Hence property, as well as population, is ac cumulating rapidly on llie Scottish soil ; am the nation, enjoying a great part of the bless tiered, if couhdence could be placed in huni.ii . to be as yet only in an • e-s. ^ el lli.rV are . IV. the caltivation of the soil ar he extent and the str. I ' ■ the improvement of the people, th practice, ■*";->■ ;...-i...i.- In ,,. p culiarlj" ntra exposes them to this pi . is perhaps tbe sour. . ! counterac l_, Its consequences tbe effects ol I y evil, physical nud n Instry. and fi - ■ -illly who ttai ..•res* of Scotsmen in ollii untries, must bare known many striking ii standard of ihe -Though then ' I i i das be men of letters of tbe last gene- ra. Burn-, who nerer left ll penetrated farther into England than Car- ' on the one hand, or Newcastle on the •i dialect than lie. who lived for many jean and France ; or perhaps 10 wrote the Ens- guage in a style of such purity ; and if be had been in other respects fitted to take a lead in the llritisli House t.f Commons, Ins pronunciation would neither hare fettered his elooueuce, uor deprived it of its due effect. inienlar in the character of the Scottish peasantry, is one which it is hoped will not be lost— the streneth of lb- attachments. The privations to which many parents submit fur the good of their children, and particularly to obtiin for them i which they consider as the chief good, has already been noticed. If their children lite and have their certain reward, not merely as witnessing, but as sharing of their earnings of the children m»y generally be considered as at the disposal of their parents ; perhaps in no counlr . a portion of the wages of labour applied to the support and comfort of those whose days of la!, ur are past. A similar strength of attach- ' brousih all llie domestic relalions. t'ur poet i . .able cha- Mri'igh tinctured with another strikin* feature w Inch belongs to them,— a partial ' native country, of which many proofs may he found in his writings. Thi-, it must le cn- and general sentiment among the natlTSS ol So tl .ml, c, ,-,. r In iis character, according to the charaei.-r me app ..i ing ■ c ihe land of their birth is, and among . .11 th* l dull on spiiil. distill,-.! r.mtiriililir. this ,ui I ii.ltisn.ii. _ .In ikon ft mntries less richly endows liased by patient toil, the afl'ec BUHNS PBEFATOttY RElViARKS. fl 11 as every other gene- countries are often peculiaily calculated I of the mind. ength, inferior nations wi-hbXrs^and wlM.r' .s for the supply of c ood-will springs from .1 ih, Mist and extend from the men with whom we live to the soil in which we tread. It will perhap be found, indeed, that our affections cannot b original ly called forth, but by objects capable Ihey are strengthened by exercise— they are ex more especially on those inanimate parts o :reatioo, which form the theatre on which W( ltid hrst tasted the sweets of sympathy anc •egard. If this reasoning be just, the love 01 Jur country, although modified, and even ex- tinguished in iudhiduals by the chances anc lhanges of life, may be presumed, in our gen- ii proportion^ their social? and more especi- than in large ones, for the same ri m" are more frequently excited. In mountain- ous countries it is generally found more active than in plains, because there the ni life often require a closer union of the inhabi- . over the whole, are usually divided into small leys. is well calculated to call forth g impression on the memory, euiarked, that mountainous he operation of the vario pecnliar manners" of ite martial achievements of t wdied in national songs, t al music, liv this com : attach men to the laud tiplied and strengthened ; c[i"o,,\,' r"-;; hope die away. If this reasoning be just, it win explain to us why, among the names of Scotland, even of culli-.auJ minds, « -o generally lind a partial attachment to the land of their birth, and why e* ec^liar S*er* avidiously on those faults and failings which ghtly over his vet warm ashes, and respect LIFE ROBERT BURNS. 1 think a faithful repaired to Edinburgh, and there published, I; subscription, an improved and en! >. farm in Dunn',! — hire ; and bavin; married . agriculture. He was again, however, unsuc- cessful ; and, abandoning his farm, he remover into the town of Dumfries, where he tilled ar inferior office ill the excise, and where he ter- minated his life in Jul}, 1T96, in his thirty- eighth year. The strength and originality of his geniu: tinguished in the republic of letter's, and, ainong others, that of Dr Moore, well known for his Views of Society and Manners on the CoiUinem of Europe, for Ills Ztluco, affair of icimlom, I sc e that character whir , . _,ans of escutcheons c AVhen at Edinburg works. To this gentlen it addre : writing. in a eompu.-ition never intended to see the light, elegance or perfect correctness of composition will not be expected. These, how- ever, will be compensated by the opportunity of life, unfold the peculiarities of his character with all the careless vigour and open sincerity of his mind. " Sir, ilauchline, 2d August, 17S7 •■ For some months past I have been ram- bling over the country ; but I am now conlined with some lingering complaints, originating, as I take it, in the stomach. To divert my quaintedin the Herald's Office; and, looking through that granary of honours, I there found Gules, purpure, argent, *cc. quite disowned me. " Mv father »» of the nolth of Scotland, the son of a farmer, and was thrown by early misfortunes on the world at larsre ; where, after many years' wanderings and sojourning,, he picked up a pretty large quantity of obser- vation and experience, to which I am indebted bborn, 11 y integrity, a ng, governabl equeut'ly I wa r y ay father was a rthy gent of small estate eh- irhood of A;r. Had he con ,i. tittle 1 un l ve marched off gs about a far ai-house™ tat DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY eye till Ihey a . ithi r vectored or lii» estate. At those yean I ' n favourite with any body. 1 noted for a retentive memory, ■omedling in my disposition, n.tic idiot piety. I say idiot piety, because I was then but* a child. Though it cost the schoolmaster some ll.r I 1st; and by the was ten or eleven years of age, I was a t substantives, verbs, and participles, infant and boyish days, too, I owed much to an old woman who resided in the family, remarka- ble for her ignorance, credulity, . lion. She had, I sup,.. in the country of talcs and songs concerning devils, pli . .Miches, war- locks, spuukies, kelpies, elf-caudles, dead- lights, wraiths, apparitions, canlraips, giants, eli. -hunted tower-, drains, and other trum- pery. ■|iu. cultivated the ■— poetry ; hut rambles, I keep a sharp look-out suspicious places ; and though nobody cr- be more sceptical than 1 am in such mallei jet it often takes an ett'ort of | shake oft' these idle terrors. The eat'' composition I was The 1 il ' >, How arc Htjj Wr»», O Lord '. 1 particularly reui-inber one i which was music t i " For though on dreadful whirls we hung first books I el .•w read since, 'were,' 7'/i. I.'i ' of Hannibal, and 77ie BUtory oi Sir William Wallacr. Hannibal gnve my Voiiiil' ideas such a turn, that I used to strut in raptures up and down alter the recruiting drum mid bag-pipe, and wish tin self till enouirhto be u soldier; while the story of Wallace poured a Scottish pre- judice into ,„_> vein,, which will boil along there till the (food-gates of life shut in eternal leal divinity about thll tim- w ., pultinc in,- nr , hall mad ; mid I, ambitious no., us, at funerals, ,Vc. much h. it .iii.l in. I. r. u, m, ih il I . und cry of heresy against me, which has not ceased to il. like our BSl infinitude, ih oth.r yoonitn who possessed superior a I. la the r.l(P»r,al ..I purl, in which I to dru,- ■ > <" It takes a few dashes into the wurld, to give the young gnat man r.ur.c.i..' c -r- _• .ri l r I, stupid devils, lb* ■'■-■ '■ — ■ and benefactors, as they occasionally went off . s, was often to me a sore affliction ; but 1 was toon called to more srious evils. My father'* generous master and, to clench the misfortune, we fell into the hands of a factor, who sat for the picture 1 have drawn of one in my Talc oi T .My father was advanced in life when he mar- ried ; I was the eldest of seven children ; and he, worn out by early hardships, was unlit fur labour. My father's spirit was soon irritated, but not easily broken. There was a freedom in ■ ry poorly ; 1 was ■ . ploughman for my age"; and the nelt eldest to me was a bruth-r (Gilbert) who could drive the plough vary well, and help ■ the corn. A rhajM have -ceues with some - bat so did not I ; roT indignation -: threatening letters which used to set us all in •• This kind of life— the cheerless gloom of a il of a galley I . I lie sill of coupling a n.an and woman together at part- tcarcitv of English denies mo il. doing licr justice in that MUgaagt . unwittingly to herself, initiated ti il. which, in spite of acid di»- appoinlmi at, . and book- worm philosophy, I hold to be the first of liiimun j.._vs, ,,„, .1. r.-i bleating h you medical people talk much of ii.l breathing ll. I : l.l did not know mi-.ll' win I liki.l SO much to b.ilcr behind with her, when returning in lilt D . ur h-.ls.urs j wli, l! .1.11 like an l out the ■ ad it was I. i . i by me BURNS. -LIFE. by a small country laird's son, on one of his and 1 saw no reason why I might not rhyme smear sheep, and cast peats, his father living first poetical production of our Bard, and it is therefore extracted from a kind of common- place book, which he seems to have begun in "Observations, Hints, Songs, Scraps of Poetry, tyc. by Robert Bumess, a man who had little art in making money, and still less in sense, a great deal of honesty, and unbounded tioual. As he was but little indebted to a scholastic education, and bred at a plough-tail, his performances must be strongly tinctured ■with his unpolished rustic v. a;, of life; but as, I believe, they are really his own, it may be some feels, under the pressure of love, ambition, anxiety, grief, with the like cares and passions, which, however diversified by the modes and manners of life, operate pretty much alike, I believe, in all the species. " «' Pleasing, when youth is long expired, to Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face, Such the soft image of our youthful mind. ' ' This MS. book, to -which our poet prefixed this account of himself, and of his intention in poems, some as they were printed, and others in their embryo state. The song alluded to is as follows. Tune,-" I am a man unmarried. " O, once I loved a bonnie lass, A bonnie lass, I will confess, But without some better qualities vliicii at times have been niv oulv, and till vithm the last twelve months have been my lighest enjoyment. My father strutrgled on till le reached the freedom in his lease, when he his lease : otherwise the a mpraclicable. For four fortably here; but a di between him and his la year. :ule. !i we live hil-!i:i vortex of litigation, my f rom the horrors of a ja "by^coniu stepped in, ant pro iiptiOU, .lid where Ike <■• It is during the time that we lived on this ■as, at the beginning of this period, perhaps le most ungainly, , " uequai. I had with Pope's Works, some plays of Shakspeare t "• "and Dickson en A.-ria ;ir:Yc, Ike Pantheon, e's Essay on the Human Understanding, -.house's History of the Bl : sh Gardener's Directory, Bayle's Uc- , Allan Ramsay's Works, Taylor's Scr/p- >f English Sows, and Hemy's Meditate,-, song by s, ,m. I n aflec- And then there's something in her gait Gars ony dress look weel. gaudy dress and g< It must be confessed that these lines give no indication of the future genius of Boras ; I lit he himself seems to have been fond of them, probably uota the recollections they excited. cause of the dissipation which mark-d my ccediog jean. I say dissipation, comparati wiih the strictness, and sobriety, and regularity of Presbyterian country life ; for thou-h the Will o' Wi.p rancor* of thoughtless) " years afterwards within the lino of innoc aim. I had felt early tome stirrings of i petual labour. The only two openings by whicl 1 could enter the temple of Fortune, was thi pate of niggardly economy, or the path of little chicaning bargain-making. The first is sc contracted an aperture, I never could squeeze myself into it ;— the last I always hated— there was contamination in the yen entrance 1 Thus abandoned of aim or view in life, with a strong appetite for sociability, as well from native hilarity, as from a pride of observation and de me fly solitude; add ».ial life." my reputr' : ~ ' for talent, and a strength of thought, tometbini; lik* the rudiments of good sense; and it will rpruisg that I was gcuerally a wel- come guest where 1 visited, or any great wonder other impulses of my heart, was tin penchant a r.:doralAc moilie du genre hum,,!:,. My heart was completely tinder, and was eternally lighted other worfare in this world my fortune was various, sometimes I was received with favour, and sometimes I was mortified with a repulse. At the pbmgb, scythe, or reap hook, I feared d as In. d farther for my much pleasure in being in the secret of half the lose- of Hie parish of Tarbollon. as e>er did curl, of I my hand seems to know instinctively the well- wOrn pub of my inioginntion, th- FaToarita ml song; and Is with difficulty restrained from giving you a couple of psra- mj compeers, or avarice. i - I ma ssipatiou were till this time new o me; but I was no enemy to social life, iere, though 1 leamt to fill my flax, and to nix without fear in a drunken so/j vent on wilb a high hand with my geometry, rig jiltttc who lived next door to the school. ; r -nt from the sphere of my studies. ver, struggled on with my sines an , for a few days more ; but stepping de, thsre I met my angel, 1. Herself a fain ne gathering Bowers, r BowV." E It was in Tain t at school. Th othiug but crai a think of doing any e the faculties of my id. 1 list cent girl bad kept me guiltless. 1 returned home very considerably improv- ed. My reading was enlarged with the very ' uportaut addition of Thomson's and Sucti- oned Works ; I bad seen human nature in a ;w pbasis: and I engaged several of mj bool-fellows to keep up a literary correspon. mce with me. This improved me in eompos-- the wits of Queen Anne's reigo, and I pored over them most devoutly ; 1 kept copies of any - r — | own letters that pleased me ; and a com- of mi correspondents flattered mt vanitv. ried this whim so far, that though 1 has! not three farthings worth of business in the vet alaaoal every post brought me as liters as if I bad been a broad plodding son of dar-book and ledger. Mi Ufa flowed on much in the same c.-urse rtos la bagatelle, were my sole principles of ac- tion. The addition of two more authors to my library gave me great pleasure ; Slrrr.e and .WAVtiste— I'ni/ram Shandy and 1 1 " ' rling walk for my uimJ ; but it was and mo,t delicious ports of their only indulged ii irahndi .vd the work ■ spell, soothed all inl ,r\ loncTf the mind." a. it hortV i ince lighted up, rsged Ii scvoml, and third. BURNS LIFE. e forei •• My twenty-third year was tome an impor- tant era. Parti? through whim, and partly that I wished to set'about doing something in life, I joined a flax-dresser in a neighbouring town (Irvine) to learn his trade, 'this was an un- lucky affair. My ; and, to finish " I was obliged to give up this scheme : the id pledged her soul my mind a turn, was a friendship 1 fonnec a young fellow, a very noble character hapless son of misfortune. He was th ;a; where after a variety of 2ood and ill for- me, a little before I was' acquainted with bin, er, on the wild coast of Counaught, s'ripped af .ery thing. I cannot quit this" poor fellow 's ory, without addin;, that he is at this time asierof a large West Iodiauian belonging to he taught it to flow in proper channels. His knowledge of the world was vastly superior to the only u fool than mvself, whera woman was th( sidiog star ; but he spoke of illicit love wi with* horror. Here his friendship 6 WS i the Pc Wi er I resumed the plough, I wrote the Poet's Icome.* My reading only increased, while escfPcni one of Ferdinand Count JPa some idea of novels. Rhyme, except some religious pieces that are in print, I bad given up; but matins with Fr-mon's Scottish P«-ms, I strung anew my wildly-sounding lyre with euiulaticg\igour. IVuen my father died. * Rob the B his all went among the hell-hounds that growl in the kennel of justice ; but we made a shift tc • the family a s ; and in short, iu spite of Me devil, and the ■Id, and thefesh, 1 believe I should have ately buying bad seed, the second, from a f At the time that our poet took the resoh i the purpose (expressed ir first page) of n These farming memo enough; many of them ere and there, with the utmost irregularity, istaut from each other as to time and place. EXTEMPORE. April, 1782. O why the deuce should I repine, And be an ill foreboder ? I'm twenty-three, and five feet nine— I gat some gear with meikle care, I held it weel thegither ; But now it's gane, and something mair, I'll go and bs a sodger. FRAGMENT. Tune—' Donald Blue ' O leave novels, ye Mauchline belles, Such 'witchiue books are baited h:,..k/ For rakish rooks like Rob HossgieL Sing tal, lal, lay, cjc. And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiei. Beware a tongue that's smoothlv hung ; A heart that warmly seek, to feel ; That feeling heart but acts a part, 'Ti» rakish art in Rob HoSbgieL DIAMOND CABINET LIHli.utY. BadoaaKtr.* I gave op mj part of the firm tc. in) brother ; In truth it was onlj nominally poetic offspring that saw lli.- licht, mi a bur. mine ; and made what little preparation was in • mnlli^"- my power for Jamaica. Bui, before lesiin* my native country for ever, I resolved to publuh aoiur in my Holy fair. I bad a uol.on myself. my poema. I weighed nay production! aa tbal (be piece bad some merit ; but to prevent impartially aa waa in my power: I thought waa very fond of such things, and told him thlt that I .hould be called • clever fellow, even I could not guess who ». lbs author of it, but that I thought it pretty clever. With a certain though it should never reach my eara — a poor negro. driver, — or perbapa a victim to that description of the clergy, as well as laity, it met inhospitable clime, and gone to the world of wilb a roar of applauie. Holy WiUie't Prayer as I then was, I bad pretty nearly aa high an moment, when the public bai decided in their baply any of it might be pointed against profane led me on another lie, wiihin point blank shot gious point of view, of which we aee thousand* of their heaviest metal. 'Ibis is the unfortunate daily guilty, are owing to their ignorance of ■tor] ibal give rise to my printed poem. The iMmcnt. This waa a most melancholy affair. themselves. To know myself, had been all along my constant study. I weighed myself very nearly given me one or two of the principal ed every means of information, to see how much For he's far aboon Dunkel' the night, Maun white the stick and a' that. Ah ! Chloris I Sir Peter Halket of Pilferran. the author.— Note, he married her— the heire.-s of Pitferran, Colonel G.orge Crawford, the author of Down the Burn, Davy. Pinkey home, by J. Mitchell. Mi/ apron Dsiry '. and Amynla, by Sir G. Willie I Wag, , near Pai,1ey. M/i and a- Ma (and al»»,t it. It. I The, author of The liuih uW: . a l>r Stewart. Po/ioart on the Green, composed by CtpUll John Druiiliuuiiil M'tiregnr, ..I llochaldie. Vein.— To in. pill., if Mr Coekluiru was tb. author of I ha V nrrn (Ac tmiline, fte. idied assiduously nature's design in t aracler were intended. I was pretty a got subscriptions for about three hundred and tit"' v- My vanity was highly gratified by the sides 1 pocketed, all expenses deducted, nearly twenty pound-. This sum cam* very season- ably, as 1 was thinking of Indenting myself, for want of money to procure my p soon aa I was omster of nine guineas, the price of wafting me to the torrid rone, I look a steer. age passage in the first ship that was to sail from the Clyde; for " I bad been for some days skulking from as some ill-adiised people had uncoupled the Bt of the law at my heels. I had taken the last farewell of my few friends ; my chest was on the road to Greenock ; I bad cotn- Calcdonia, The gioomu *ieht is gotArrliig (art, when a lelter from Or Blacklock.* to a Hand of mine, overthrew all my schemes, by opening ■lie ainbiii.m. The law prospects toetot belonge ippl.iuse I had t dared to th.it away I posted for that city, without a single aoncaint inc.-, or a .ni^'ie iMIer of intro. duel The baneful star that had so long shed Providence placed me under the patronage of one of the noblest uf D i Ibis will be found hen BURNS. csirn. Oxiblis mot. Grand Dieu, si jamais je " I need relate no farther. At Edinburgh I was in a new world; I mingled among many classes of men, but all of them new to me, and 1 was all attention to catch the characters and Vie manners living as they rise. Whether I have profited, time will show. "My most respectful compliments to Miss AW ilcr very elegant and friendly letter I cannot answer at present, as my presence is At the period of our poet's death, his orc- his brother, he complied with her request in a Utter, from which the following narrati - chiefly extracted. When Gilbert Burns t undred yards of Allowav Church, which his oem of Tain o' Shanter has rendered irarnor- a livelihood. The same necessity attend elder brother Robert. "I have often mv father, '• savs Gilbert Burns, in bis to\Mrs Dunlop,'" describe the anguish o he felt when they parted on the top of a and scare, 1 . father undertook to act as ed his course to Ediubur * There are various copies of this letter. id one slight alteration suggested by Gilberl + This house is on the right hand side of the ralton parish, he sold his leasehold right in house, and a few acres of land adjoining, te corporation of shoemakers in Ayr. It is LIFE. hard when he could get work, passing thrc iety of difficulties. Still, however voured to spare something for the sup aged parent ; and I recollect hearing on his having sent a bank-note for purpose when money of that kind was so sc : - '■'incardineshire, that they scarcely k ng desirous of settlir gin life, hetookuper- ual lease of seven mpbell, physician ir ■ gardener d having built a hou nds, married in D i; 37, 'Agues es. The first frui of th. marriage wo K bert, the subject of 2 !uh of January, 1 utioncd. Before William Burnes had made tch progress in pre .aring his nursery, he s withdrawn from ang b\ 11 F rguson, who purchn 'ardener and overseer I, ru. Though in the service of Mr Ferguson ise, his wife managing her ram a ws 1 ! m and (h , is"s*tate Jlelimes of three milch of unambitious conten : teacher being in a few months appointed mas- heads of fam his stead. Tl brother Gilber :. Murdoch, whose that time had no great variety in it, _ The Life of Hannibal, which was the : first book he read (the school books excepted) I and almost the onlv one he had an opportunity of reading while he was at school; for The i Life of Wallace, which he classes with it in one j of" his letters to you, he did not see for soma [smith who shod our horses. " I It appears that William Burnes approved ■ himself greatly in the service of Mr Ferguson, ! by his intelligence, industry, and integrity. In "With him we lear 1 to r. My well, | and to wr e alii to profit much from but Robert made som - ; roll cumstance of consid rable folding of his genius udch became remarkable fo r thet that clmc'irThirwaj with nth*. when he could get a book. , English ■ [o be fort, irs, and at - consequence of (hit, with i nf which we have the folio •• The farm was upward -Sit V and nin. measure), 3 pound, annually for the fir : .iher endea- -. il bis leasehold property, for the purpose of stocking thi, farm, but at that time was uuable, and Mr Ferguson lent him a hun- dred pound, f..r thai purpose, lie removed to lualion at Whitsuntide, 17i;o. It wa-, 1 think, not above two years after this, that Murdoch, our tutor and friend, left thi, part of the country ; aud there being no school near us, and our little services bei the farm, my father undertook to teach DIAMOND cabinet library. i view of pro"; :nings, by caudle- 's got re were no hoys of our own ape, or Deal it, in the neighbourhood. Indeed the greatest part of the laud in the vicinity was at I bat time poj.o-.ed by shopkeepers, end people companion we had. He conversed famili on all subjects with us, as if we had been m end was al great pains, while we accompanied him in the labours of the farm, to lead the ' i such subjects as might tend to increase our knowledge, or confirm us in vir- He borrowed Salmon's Geogra- circumstance that happened at this time, which, though trilling in itself, is fresh in in) memory, aud may serve to illustrate ihe early character iii.Tiit with us, aud to lake his Leave, when he to Camels, lie ought u, as a present and memorial of hi tragedy of Titus Andronicif. ; and, by way of tears. A female in the play (1 hav fused remembrance of il) had her hands chopt off, and ber tongtt — sultingly desired t My fatl ;r observed, that if we would not . I Would be lliedle,, to lease the with u,. Robert replied, that if it was 1. would burn it. My father was going to him for this ungrateful return to his ti kindness; but Murdoch interfered, declaring thai lie liked to see so much sensibility ; and he left The School for Lore, a corned \ iirau,!m.llr\ir,plc, whcli, iIku.-Ii between two and three miles distant. ipportunitj ol l his time u bookish acquaintance of my father's procured us a reading ol two Tolas ardson's Tamcla, which was the first novel we -illy part of Richard- roj brother ». acquainted with till towards i i.i, commencing author. Till Sinoll illy play st , bin li ... he intended to |m rform. , (.two 'Hill be ue.er ev.i e trench crilic, in BURNS LIFE. English history from Mr Hamilton of Bourtree- hill's srardeuer. It treated of the reien of Ji the First, and his unfortunate son, Cha that I remember of it is something of Char 1 So I'll to my Latin again. he The established teacher of the 1 guage in Ayr, a circumstance of considerable consequence to us. The remembrance of my father's former friendship, and his attachment power for our improvement. He sent us Pope 's works, and some other poetry, the first th.n we had an opportunity of reading, excepting what is contained in The English Collection, and in ; of The Edinburgh Magazine for drymple, the I him that attention to which bethought entitled. In Ayr he might as weil ken blasphemy. He found it proper 1772; ■cellent n xmt the country i " The summer after we had been at Dalryro- revise his English grammar, with his former education, excepting one sun school of Kirk Oswald, (win knowledge of the language, as to read and understand any French author in prose. This throifth the medium of Murdoch, procured him the acquaintance of several lads in Ayr, who ■were at that time gabbling French, and the notice of some families, particularly that of l)r " Observing the facility with which he had the established writing-master in Ayr, l langua Iv b BStXJ, ised Robert to advice, he purchased The Rudiments of the Latin Tongue, but finding this study dry and frequently return-id to his Rudiments on anv little chagrin or disappointment, particularly in his love affairs -, but the Latin seldom pre- dominated more th; Obsei fellow -native fthe north of Scotland during Mr Pa erson'slife. After his widow, who 1 s a very genteel woros thought her husband would have hare done, an d assiduously kept up the intimacy with our family, by frequently •* NVhen she came to know mv brother's pas- sion for books, she kindly offered us the use of Spectator, Popt T Horner, and several other •— '•- "— '-' — i the parish of Ayr, is almost the very pooresl .-r thirty years ago. My ch were increased by the cattle by accidents and we could only rfmisl hard labour and the lived very sparingl; all the members of difficulties, f several of To the e fan of their n the labours of the farm. threshing the crop of corn, and at fifteen was the principal labourer on the farm, for The anguish of mind we felt at our tender years, under these straits and difficulties, was old (for he'was now above fifty,) broken down with the long continued fatigues of his life, with his wife and five other children, and in a declining slate of circumBtancea, these refleo DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. This ni not likely to be at this period of ,o ofun afflicted through hie irbolt life after- wards. At ihis time he was almost eoulull) nfllicted In the evenings with a dull headache, which, at a future period of his life, wan ex- changed for a palpitation of the heart, and a threatening of fainting and suffocation in bis " By n stipulation in my father's lease, he had a right to throw it up, if he (bought proper. nt the end of every sixth year. He attempted in Liverpool. He removed to this farm at Whitsunday, 1777, and possessed it only seven decision involved u.v father's all Mrs in ruin. He lived to know of this decision, but not to died on the 13th of February, 17S4. "The seven jears we lived in Truboltnn parish (extending from the seventeenth to the twenty-fourth of my brother's age), were not during tin- time the foundation was laid of cer- woineii, yet when he approached manhood, his attachment to their society became very strong, celebrated Sappho. I never indeed knew that '.•«'.-, ami ili, ,1 uii-nv •' but the agita- tions "if bis mind mid boilv exceeded nnv tiling of the kind I ever knew in real life. He had I.. 111. I , tlie„f,,r.., rnr.lv settled on persons of this description. When lie selected n.iy oh-, out of tile sovereignty of Ins good pleasure, to whom lie should pav his with a sufficient .lock of chiiriii . plentiful stores of his own imrigii ' a great II . „t . I. del l-.li/.i irare upou bin), ■ red a sum of money be had no probability ag i«r other of life. He and I bad for i land of my father for the purpo-e of -can to think of (liming dresser, both an being suitable to ins d view of settling in life, and a* •ubtrr- to the flax raising. He accordingly igh( a( the business of a ■d, as neither agreeing with his health nor nation. In Irvine he had contracted some prepared him for overleaping the bound, of r.gid virtue which had hitherto retrained him. lowards the end of (he period under review i m his 21th year), and soon after his father's death, he was furnished with the subject of his epistle to John Kankin. During this period also he became a freemason, which was bin firal introduction to the lifeofa boon compau on. Vet, notwithstanding these circumstances, and the praise he has bestowed on Scotch drink do not recollect, during (bese seien years, nor (when his growing celebrity occasioned his being often in company), to have ever s-en him rietj of his conduct need not be required than what 1 am we lived tu the farro of Lochia* with my father, he allowed my brother and me such wages for our labour as he gave to other labourer-, a- a part of wbiel', every article cf our counted lor. \v Ion tin father's ... near a crisis, Hubert n'riil I took (he farm of of LW per annum (the tarn ou which I lira a( present) from Ml Gavin Hamilton, as an uyfum for the family „. was stocked by the properly and individual -mines of tlo whole family, and was a joint concern among us. I'.v.ry member of the family was allowed ordinary wages for the allowance alol nun. ii.i.-.-v 11 pounds per an- num each. And daring the who',,- lime this family concern l.i-l. .1. which wa- . as well as during the preceding period at l.ochl.a, his l tin t .1 with the keeping ol'llie fan. in ilu-. 1 -.lenient in 111) brother's favour. Ills temperance and frugality were even thing that i.. ity, ..n I the Top. Ill Co. in. I, not with l BURNS.— LIFE, 21 notion with Jean Armour, afterwards Mrs Bums. This connexion could no longer be concealed, about the time we came to a final h her father till 'it might please " Mrs Burns was a great favourite of her was the first suggestion he received of her real situation. He was in the greatest distress, and faiated awav. The marriage did not appear to him to make the matter any better. A hus- any other prospects of a settlemen expressed a wish tocher, that the v which respected the marriage sh celled, and thus the marriage r< anguish of mind. He offered to stay at hot and provide for his wife and family in the b( manner that his daily labours could provide for them ; that being the only means in his power. you a simple narrative of the leading circuni. 3 in my brother's early life. The re- ig part he spent in Edinburgh or Dum- friesshire, and its incidents are as well known im your patronage and friendship, this gave ven this offer "they did not approve of ; f. mble as Miss Armours eat though her imprudenc e had been .•■'" was not effaced, till bv a regular marriajf were iudissolubly united. In the stale of which this separation produced, he wish assistant ov tracer, or, as I believe it is called, a book-keeper, on his estate. As he had not passage for him was not expected to sail for some time, Mr Hamilton advised him to publish a likely way of getting a little money to providt him more lit ra essaries for Jamaica. Agreeably to this advice, subscription bills were printed immediately, and the printing wa- commenced at Kilmarnock, his preparation- going on at the same time for his voyage. Th( reception, however, which his poems met wit! in the world, and the friends him, made him change his resolution of to Jamaica, and he was advised to go to Edin. burgh to publish a second edition. On hii return, in happier circumstances, he renewec his connexion with Mrs Burns, and rendered i permanent by a union for life. '•Thus, Madam, have I endeavoured to givi oh, I tx st respectful, but most unreserved ence, and which only termini st days of his life. " of Gilbert Burns may servo as a commentary on the preceding sketch of our poet's life by himself. It will be seen that irose from the distress and sorrow in e tad involved his future wife. The The reader will perceive, from the fortuning narrative, how much the children of William it does not appear that he possessed any portion of that vivid imagination for which the subject of these memoirs was distinguished. In page had an unaccountable antipathy to daucing- ' ';, and that ' .,;,!,< „ lisplea our fall of bis going to a dancing-school against his will, of which he was incapable. I believe the truth was, that he, about this time, began to see the dangerous impetuosity of my brother 'fl which he would naturally think a dancing- more expense in cultivating than on the rest of the family, in the instances of sending him to Ait and Kirk-Oswald schools ; and he was -rent];, delighted with his warmth of heart, deed that dislike of dancing-schools which Robert mentions ; but so far overcame it during allowed all the rest of the family that were fit for it, to accompany him during the second month. Robert excelled in dancing, and was for some time distractedly fond of it. " ting lands of y procured coupled at his heels," to oblige him to find SS DIAMOND CABINB1 LTBBABY. IsyoJ nl.J dU I | relaliTi law, wli. r. and shake hand. v»ilh infamy, for what sincerely believe lo be 111 or their king, arc, a» Mark Antony »n Spak-pcare, of Brutj, and Cassius. ktrnot this circumstance, becal threw my father en She world at large. " ;li bis been omitted in pri the letter, at the desire of Gilbert Burns it would have been unnecessary ic of Club- liis < ' ■ Ol ll, t know," ity locks on Li. head lurnof mind, iotf, and as is usual anion? the Scotii.h peasantry, > in a good deal conversant in speculative theology. . Gilbert's hands a little manual of belief, in the form of a di.loeue between a father and his son. composed by him line fur the use of his children, in which the L-tne- il church, iuto something approaching to Ar- lield with the younj haps, intended toco re the Earl of Marischal .talc- in 17 1.). 1 union;: a collection ot low country of Scotland, ■were in those days li Ion, in the familiar |,]ira-e of me counuj, •'Out in the forty-five," (1745.) especially when they had any Bt« tlicin, as was the case with \\ ilXaru Burncs. Il mav easily I ceive.l, that our poet would Cheris'h the belief of his father's having been in the ilarins enlerprisc of Prince attachment. e adhere, of the house of S , touched with sympathy, his youthful and ardent mind, an 1 iuilueuced his original political opinions.* to etofl i tial a manner. Tin prim ipal acquaintance we had in Ayr. while Lor,, were lo ., mother's, who kepi ■ tea shop, and had made n little mom, in ill common at thai lime, lie died v. i were young, ami my Father was nominated one ,.i ibe tub i . re bred shop- Ho r says the ■ :eofcallin f i irj tegeth r dure in the CouV. 5 a \\ illiam Burncs and his family ful suppei They, round the ingle, form a circle w ide ; The sire turns o'er, wiih patriarchal grace, 'Hie Lis r's pride: His bonnet rer'rently is laid aside. His hart ballets wearing thin and bare; Muse -.trains that once did nraea And " Let as tcorthip f/«j .' ' be say s » ilh so- Tbey chant their artless notes in sin • . Perhaps Ihrndce '« + wild warbling measures Or plaintive Mur/unf worthy of the nime ; Or noble Elfin t beets the hea'yenly flame, - •se, lialian trills are tame: oo heartfelt raptur Compared wi No unison have ir Creator '» praise. 1-like father reads the sacred page,* ■ ii liuhi I lerna'l warfare wage With Amalek ■ Or hovy the royoi tant did groaning he. Beneath the' stroke of Heaven ? Or, Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing civ ; Hamilton, during the American war. 1 ,. III., r of then, are mow , 17117 1 alive. W e also Air, and a . ungir broth i hide older than my brother, and with whom is had a longer and closer tatlmtej than with .-. which did no;, I-. among the BURXS.-LIFE. r, rapl Isaiah 's wild seraphic fire ; :.id not on earth whereon tola; his h( Row he who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mijhty angel stand : And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced Then kneeling down toHeaven's eternalKin?, The taint, the father, and the husband prays; Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing, That thus thev all shall meet in future da> 5; There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, Then homeward all lake off their several « a : , ; The parent pair their secret homage pay. And offer up to Heaven the warm request, TbatAe who stills the raven's clam re- nest, And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would in the way his wisdom sees the b-st. Of a family so interesting as that which in- habited the cottase of William Burnes, and particularly of the father of the family, the 11 perhaps ' Joseph Cooper Walker, Esq. of Dublin, author of the Historical Memoir of the Italian Tragedy, lately published, thus expresses himself: SIR, ■' 1 was lately favoured with a letter from our worthy friend, the Rev. Wm. Adair, in which ever particulars I could recollect concerning Robert Burns, the Ayrshire poet. Mi business tie ir ■*■- ■■-*■■' nights on paper, that 1 ly part of the life of thi " William Burnes, the father of the pc Un Ay, tie in the habit of expressing my perfect sketch of the Lreo a gardener. He had been se ten or twelve vears before I had teen in the sen ice of -Mr Crawford of Doonside. He was afterwards employed as a gardener and over.-eer bv Provost Ferjnso.n ot Doonholm, in the parish' of Alloway, which is uow united with that of Ayr. In this parish. on the road side, a Scotch mile and 1 the town of Ayr, and half a milt bridge of Doon, William Burnes t< an inhabitant, i really believe there dwelt a larger portion of content than in any palace in Europe. The Cotter s Saturday Night will " In 1765, about the middle of March, Mr W r . Burnes came to Ayr, and sent to the iny good friend Mr Robison, desiring that I and bring my writing book with me. This a few yards from the argillaceous fab board me by turns, and to make up before they were put under my car both made a rapid progress in readir tolerable progress in writing. In rea vidmg words into syllables by rule. schools were the Spelling Book, the New nent, the Bible, Mason's Collection of and Verse, and Fisher's English Gram- ion facility. This was partly b> thei father and s, to make iL.'r ughly acquainted with 1 e meaning -T-. V. was to be .he bj , this ma; if bought. As s it, I taught them ta'im, they were lural prose order; some words, and you know. ans of knowing tha pil under- s his author. These ar ent helps to ement of words in Jiice t always appeared to me possessa 1\ IHV.IOVI) cvniNT.T Linn\:iY. g urination, and to be mor- of the | myself, Ihal ^little c'hurch-'music. "ll behind bj all the ml of lbs sch . voice untunable. ' It was long before 'l cuul Ihomrhiful mind. U 10M thee I mean to li which oith. in v j~ tb ■< [a til id ..in. . louut Ol . n the service of Provost Ferguson. in generally grave, ert'. facTiaid'il two 1. ,-.,. lud 1 .. mott likely to Robert had a propensity of tha 17b'7, Mr Hurnes quitted hi* :pban0^ 1 isopai : n^rU'i',- : !»h:i^ from the school, the boys could not attend regularly ; and some porters of the school, I left it, having continue 1 •' In the year 177a, 1 was appoint.-.l | being one of live candidates who were examined) to ll t ■ ,,i. — In. n 1I1- lai.-.ir... _- -.r >»-• r hand. The ruber and at down with Of, when we enjoyed a and a tin Wile I ill parties. Robert hid a hundred question* riew, 'had si [lllil'.wjlllV, e French. Ate ; friends, upon moral or natural 00 was of the party as much as 11 the house affairs would draw her Which erer as she could with has* She'd come again, and, with a greedy ear. Devour up their discourse, ' and particularly that of her husband. At all md particularly Robert was glad to "• Now there wa else. When under the necessity of being ab- sent while he was speaking, she seemed to the good-man had said. This won Agnes Brown, had the most thorn can by no means wonder that she highly es- teemed him ; for I myself have a!u dered William Burnc,' as br far the best of ibo human race that ever I bad the pleasure of be- in:; acquainted with— and many a worthy character I li i\o known, 1 can cheerfully join with Robert in the last lino of his epitaph (borrowed from Goldsmith), ich with grea conjugation of his failing ; lean'd to virtue's judge from his assiduous atleutiou of his worthy parlne wins, in French ■. so thai he was hourly layi in a stock of worj,, ami soinctiul s little plir Of. Iii short, he took such pleasure in l.arn- her nw mother. e behaviour to him, as well as IWta father; idinj his children in the business ; and about the cud of the 1 of our study of the French, wo brgL little of .I/, alurel of TcUuuchua, in F« th\-ult to parents do, to the performance of duties t which th-y themselves ar- care to liini fault but very seldom ; and there bra, when he did rebuke, he w 11 a kind of reverential awe. A look of dis approbation was fell ; a reproof was severrl and n stripe with the tana, even on th nf the coal, gave heart-felt pain, produce . and brought I'.Tih a tloo. ,, 1,11 •.-, ! Thus wis I deprlrod "i" mj rtrj apt pupil, [ii mtly agreeable oorap 1 visitant it I 1 I. ilili..l„l ,,, „,, 1 ,, Willi on. .. with an BURNS. -LIFE. people to keep booing and booing in the presence of a great man. He always treated superiors with a becoming respect ; bat he never gave you a description of all the manly qualities, the rational and Christian virtues of the vener- able William Burnes. Time would fail me. I shall only add, that he carefully practised of offence towards God' and tc from these few particulars, wh: had the principal hand in the education of our poet. He spoke the Eoglish language witb more propriety (both with respect to dicti with no greater advantages. This had a ve good effect on the boys, who began to taJ neighbours. I do not recollect any of their cc temporaries) at my little seminary, who aft* wards made any great figure as literary cha- racters, except Dr Tennant, who was chaplain to Colonel Fullartr - ' -- He! ■"'"-" : , "Mr" Bui had overrated Mount Oliphant, and that he could not rear his numerous family upon it. — After being there some years, he removed to Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton, where, X believe, Robert wrote most of his poems. little n e re'.ati ner, to my worthy friend Mr Adair, wl " Hart Street, Bloomsbury square, London, Feb. 2 brother, so this letter of Mr Murdc written without his having any knowledge that same subject. The three relati o ilkis cate each other. Though the inform; convey might have been presented witnin shorter compass, by reducing the whole into doubted, thai . I res ler will be far more gratified by a sight of these original documents themselves. Under the humble roof of his parents, it appears indeed that our poet had great advan- tages ; but his opportunities of information at school were more limited as to time than they usually are among his countrymen, in his con- ' dition of life ; and the acquisitions which ha made, and the poetical talent which he exerted. aider the pressure of early and incess nt toil. and of inferi scanty nu esufy at o s mind. In h .„;., h. ) five feet ten i aches, and agility as « -U a. strength. I i the various 1 abours of t lie farm he excelled a 11 his competit rs. Gilbe tries all the everely, Robert was the only ma end of a s day, he was ever obliged to acknowled e as his 'used to bestow on them his thoughts or his :ares. While the ploughshare under his ning the songs of his country, r Happily the Sunday is — and be-* - t !>..■ labours. On this day, therefore. Burns could of nature. It was his delight to wander alone on the banks of the Ayr, whose stream is now immortal, and to listen to the song of the blackbird at the close of the summer's day. But still greater was his pleasure, as he him. self informs us, in walking on the sheltered side of a wood, in a cloudy winter day, and stride along its summit, while the lightning of the tempest, to apostrophize the spirit of favourable to devotion—" Rapt in enthusiasm. peculiarly awake to every impression of beauty - The gaiety of many of Burns 's writing,, a:,d the lively, and even cheerful colouring with which he has portrayed his own character, may lead some persons to suppose, that the end of his days, was not an original part of his constitution. It is not to be doubted, indeed, subject verv early to those depressions of mind, which are perhaps not wholly separable from to e an e un'commo°n decree.' Thl following letter, addressed to his father, will serve as a proof of when he was learning the business of a flax- dresser, and is dated Irvine, Dec. 27, 1781. " Honoured Sir, " I have purposely delayed writing, in the DIAMOND CAISINtrr l.iniUlI Y. appears was nearly reasons, which I shall tell jon at meeting. My lion hud formed to itself pic-turn. health is nearly the same as when Bit despair of making a here, only my sleep is a lit tit- sounder, and, on figure in the world, shows bow ardently he the whole, I am rather better than otherwise, wished For honourable fame ; au aobji mrrt .\.-n i imi ui the • n-uii .- . am, bom pence; and. with Ihe humhle potation that i \S." mistresses, Kn./'ij cult! ...Il other. This society ountinned Its meet- r.gularly for some time; and in ihe ants of their pi ik, into which II t, whieh is work of • in bis n.- : nearly out, but 1 am • fi re the ■ •■o vt :,- I i. in! !•-. • :.-- -loot bistort of ill. .1 II ' BURNS. -LIFE. Bui plough men and median ics we, la Nafur •a simple dress eeord. ' "As the gre it end of human society s to id better, this o i'o,v to be the prineip al view of every station of life. But as cxperier '-''': us, that such s udies as inform the head mend the heart, when long con nued, are to exhaust the faculties of the er to relieve an d unbend the mind by some employment or another. enough to keep be same time no to exhaust them . But superadded to thi, . "y frr the greater p art of mankind the necessity of ea -ning the gluten m, nf h, life by the labau of their b, ,ii^ wh r,bs only the faculli •s "of the mind. but the n and sinews of t ried man worn down with the nee essary lab ours ° " As the best of things, howe rer, have leen the pretence of a have plunged in to all the madn ss of riot dissipation; a, d instead of at ending tc the with extrav"^ ee and folly, a id ended fill! guilt and wretcl :tthefonS l?\"\ l] 'u "Z parish "of Taroo ton, viz. Hu 2 h Reid, R Burns, Gilbert Burns, Alexn Walter Mitchel Tiromas Wrigh , aud Wi M'Gavin, resol "*■ ™*» a n c that whi un- should forget o r cares and la bounds of innocence and decor weTehf our fir? meeting at Ta the house of John R ichard, upon the the 11th of Novem ber, 17S0. con Hallowe'en, un 1 after choosing 1! ,1 T! I president for the — ; Suppose a yo a farmer, but w ihout any fortun bis power to marry itheroftwow-o person, nor agr "able in convers V. 'k> household aflfair of a farm enough ; "the ot wa ; , agreeable in p baviour, but \ ithout any fort them shall he cb oo,e?' Findin happy in our so iety. we resolve ltocontin the way and manne reaf- ter we chose Robert Ritchie for ber. In May. 7S1, we brough in David e, Adam Jamiso ling of the year K---\ w ad- milled Matthew and in June followir ~s Patlers °for such a soci ty. The being thus incr eased, we resoh Tarbolton on the race night, tt e July fo low- * The person to whom Burn, addressc his E^.Mic to Dock , a brother pot'i. .hail d thinks proper. 2d. When the club is met, the president, or, he failing, some one of the members, till he come, shall take his seat ; then the other mem- bers shall seat themselves ; those who are for hand ; and those who are for the other side,"on his left; which of them shall hava the right hand is to be determined by the president. present shall have power to transact any ordS 3d. The club met and seated, the preside.it shall read the question out of the club's book of records, (which book is always to be kept by the president) then the two members nearest the president a ball cost lots who of them shull speak n the other side shall reply to him ; then n the second member of the side that spoke ond, and so on to the end of the company ; :nt shall giv< 5th. The club shall, lastly, elect a new ] my of the club may n whoever of them ht e first v< duly e ; allowing the stresses of the club, thev shall dismiss. 6th. There shall be no private conversation carried on during the time of debate, nor shall any member interrupt another while he is speaking, under the penalty of a reprimand from the president, for the lirsl fault, doubling DIAMOND C.MHVF.T LIBft.UtY. Ilic philosophical mind will dwell with in- biued so skilfully lio i a smile on iVese simple annul,, let HI tract that il will be a smile of benevolence and oppn.ua- tiuti. Il i. with regret ilia! Ihe seiju-1 of ill' hisiorv of ibe Bachelor's Club of Tarbolton must be lold. Il survived several years after our poet removed from Ayrshire, but, no longer sustained by his talents, or cemented by his social affections, its meetings lost much of dissension arising amongst its members, the and the regulations were spared - —' o posterity. family of our bard n mtplr, t it Mauchline were n Mauchline it was tiled, that ihe mo in-, should be set apart for the | books ; and the first work procui manner was the Mirror, the separa end published in volumes. After il number of oilier work-, chic.lv o nature, and among these the L >u his share of the reckoning for the second ; tre- I ling ;i for the third, and so on in proportior lno r. ,.:!i.r fault; provided always, how- ever, thai -■ ai any tim< after leave asked and gi.en by the president. All swearing and profane language, and par- ticularly all ob-c. lie mid indecent is ,lriclly prohibited, uuder the same inltj 7th. Nomeml shall mention an s article. ' . member ,lnli attend at ings, without he can give, a prop for not attending ; an . . r ; and he * i, .hall be wmmi duet, and more susceptible of improve! Ihan the self-sufficient mechanic of co ■ l f-rence to the Comer,: •ocietv of Mauchline, it may be doubted, ther the books which they purchased wen kind best adapted to promote the intere* happiness of persons in this situation ol 'Ihe .Win or and the Loungrr, though wo great merit, may be said, on a general vi the knowledge, than morality itself, whicl fectly pure, may be o They are, indeed, re refine the taste of tbos. to a h._*li oa gim of lo mis circumstance it is perhaps ley exhibit little or nothing of be peculiar manners of the age or country in rhicb they were produced. But delicacy of iste, though the source of many pleasures, is : desirable, the possessor should perhaps in II cases be raised above the necessity of bodily ibour, unless indeed we should include under shall partake aste immediately presides. Delicacy may be a blessing to him who has the of his own time, and who can choose re, the cultivi t faculties whi itiou iii iuelf, and opens gratifications. To men -*— of opulence and nployment <0 employment. e happiness of the p ii. u mi>rbid >e!i>ibi!»ly, or, io use n of .Mr Hume, that delicacy of appear, c when, if he fail he shall be cxcli sixteen members, all bachelors. Belonging lo the parish of Tarbolton ; except a brother member marry, and in that case he may be continued, if the majority of the club think person shall be admitted a mem- ber of this society, without the unanimous c.iis.-ut of ihe club; and any member may withdraw from the club altogether, notice lo the ; : the female seV. .No h the re.l of ihe club, and especially no inrali- spinled, worldly in irtal, I heap up money , shall upon an) p I ever be admitted. In short. 111* proper person ... is a eii ...-riiii no n et b u nte d BURNS LIFE. 5 ant, had the delicacy of hia taste equalled the ; - Mobility of his passions, regulating all tht . IVusions of his muse, and presiding overall throughout society, which sometic pursuit of Homer or ad, of s beauties of (serrations' are not offered without m of doubt and hesitation. The iscussion. 3 It^na.y'u '.' and, that the lirst step to improve- and that this vyill he most effectually done br- eading, . The< .rl of the i Scotlaj under this description. It may be farther ob- served, that every human being is the proper judge of his own happiness, and, within the peasantry to give a preference to works of taste and of fancy.* It may be presumed they find works ; and it may be added, that it is of more consequence they should be made happy in their means, or with the desire, of rising above it. Such considerations are doubtless of much weisjbt ; nevertheless, the previous reflections may deserve to be examined, and here we shall leave the subject. Though the records of the society at Tarbol- ton are lost, and those of the society at Mauch- liue have not been transmitted, yet we may * In several lists of bock-soeieii s anions ;1 poorer classes ia Scotland which the Edit has seen, works of this description form great part. Th.se society are I; afelv affirm, that nemberof bothtli veil calculated t< of these soci, each pe rting h where the subject of conversation is fixed ,■.,., -.: ■, -i ... .■. _■....: asteninc the evolution of talents. Such an ssociation requires indeed somewhat more of n all other free governm. kind ought perhaps to be founded. The first requisite of every kind of elocution, time, and of lone practice. Children are always defective in dear articulation, and so are young people, though in a less degree. )\ hat is called slurrins in speech, prevails with some persons through life, especially in those who Female occupations require much use of speech, because thev are duties in detail. Be- - being generally seden- tary, the respii rty. Their , b.l.ty as. ■0 ! I LIliRAItY. i -realcr fluency of .pe«h, and a in. -ii who have not mingled early aud familiarly with the world, though rich perhaps in know- ledge, nod clear in apprehension, it u oft. painful to observe the difficulty with wbi are communicated by speech, through the want of those habits, that connect >.rds, and sounds tocclher ; which, m as if they had arisen spontaneously, but which, in truth, are the result of long and painful practice, and when analyzed, exhibit the phenomena of moat cu- rious and co-nplicaled as .ueh 1= M-becni hey may be said to put each mera- I ilie knowledge of all the ollUion of opinion, excite the faculties of n and reflection. To those who wish to use their minds in such intervals of labour e condition of a peasant allows, this me- may prevent I v which gcuiu h genius being bewildered, science is u debased, and error propagated through «»ive generations. And to men who, b*T- e of their education, are I ■ most useful, und the most rational of gra- W In t!i. r. in the humble societies of which formation, may perhaps be questioned. Ii unot bowerer be doubted, that by collision, i heultiet of hie in. ud would be excited, that practice, his habits of enunciation would be " \\ III n letters and philosophy Wl re eulli- niultiplied the tablet, . i nnd ii .Ml) produced the habit . : il is. re in .-..mi I. l'uel, were fi.ulld reciting their own vet,. . in public ii.icm lie schools only philosophers tell ■peculations. The taste of the bearers, the [o the world . u well 01 ll -1111111. nl.. were nginn mill again rrluut-hed mi, I ini|.i..M.i. Death alone put I and tbu< wc hare some explanation of that early command of words an sion which enabled him to poor forth his thoughts in language not unworthy of h!s genius, and which, of all his endowments, •eemed, on his appearance in Edinburch, the most extraordinary, i For associations of a literary nature, our poet acquired a considerable relish ; and happy had it been for him, after be emerged from the condition of a peasant, if fortune bad permitted him to enjoy them in the degree of which he was capable, so as to have fortified his principles of virtue by the purifica- tion of bis taste, and given to the energies of his mind habit, of exertion that might have ex- cluded other associations, in which it mu-t Le acknowledged they were too often wasted, as well as debased. The whole course of the Ayr is 6ne ; but the banks of that river, as it bends to the east- ward above Mauchiine, are singularly beautiful, and they were frequented, as moy I by our poet in his solitary walks, lire the -iled him. In one of these wan- derings, he met among the woods a celebrated lieauty of the west of Scotland ; a lady, of whom it il said, that the charms of her person This incident gave rise, as might be expected. bich he inclosed it TO MISS Jloagid, 1SIA.Y "Madam, " Poets are such outre beings, so much the children of wayward fancy' and capri ious whim, that I believe the world generally allows them n lar U ". r latitude in the laws of propriety, i the lileriirs that a nameless stranger has taken with you in the inclosed poem, which he begs leave to with. Whether it has poetical merit any way worthy of the theme, 1 am not the proper judge ; but it is the l.e,t m\ al ilities perhaps be a lupcilu r grates, it is equally sin- Tarboli . prepared for these meetings ; and urn. tile heads of a speech on the ( it. Btt . in p. 27. in which, as might le . nd.TU 1 side of the question. The following, nmv serve as a farther spccimcii of Inhaled in the society at Tarbol- ton : — •• \N lielln r .!.. we drriic more happiness ■ lout* each BURNS LIFE. " The scenery was nearly taken from real life, though I dare say, madam, you do not recollect it, as I believe you scarcely noticed had roved out as chance directed, in the favour- ite haunts of my muse, on the banks of thi Ayr, to view nature in all the ftiaierj of ill. vernal year. The evening sun was flaming over the distant western hills : not a breatt stirred the crimson opening blossom, or thi hand, with a congenial kindred n eye your elusive Bights to discover your secret recesses, and to rob you of all the property jtlings. Even the hoary hawthorn- hold Commerce with aerial beiu-s ! Had Calumny and Villany taken my walk, they bad " What an hour of inspiration for a poet ! It would have raised plain, dull, historic pro=e into metaphor and measure. "The inclosed song was the work of my re- what might be expected from such a scene. ••Madam. " ROBERT BURXS. " •Twos even—the dewy fields were green, The Zephyr wanton'd round the bean, With careless step I onward strayed, rfection whispel Uehold the lass o' BaUochaij L Th^livl hu?and rose's dvf Bespoke the lass o'Ballochur ing through the garden nay, There all her charms she does compile Even there her other works are foil'd By the bonny lass o' BaUochmyle. Then pride might climb the slippery steep, Where fame and honours lofty shine ; And thirst of gold might tempt the deeo. Or downward seek the Indian mine : Give me the cot below the pine, To tend the flocks or till the soil, th the bonny lass o' BaUochmyle. e manuscript book in which our poet and of such a poem she herself as the proper judge. 1 more of tenderness than of respect. In- object of his admiration, he presumed to reduce _ _Jty to his daring bosom. It is true, Burns might have found precedents for such freedoms amjog the poets of Greece and Rome, and in- of every country. And it is not to be /of P ™ what purp. lieh is the . u charms, ription of men w are incapable of control ? " The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination aU compact. ' ' It may be easily presumed, that the beautiful nymph of BaUochmyle, whoever she may have of our poet, though she received them with silent modesty and dignified reserve. The sensibility of "our bard's temper, and | the force of his imagination, exposed him in a DIAMOND CABINET LIBIlAItY. id ill. lr i. . , nf which will soon 01 of nature Mud sensibility to which thrj gare birlh. entitled Highland .Vary, i« known iru written," says our bard, "on one of the ini died curly in life, Tlmu lineering star, with l.-senii Thai latest to greet the earlj m o Mary ! dear depart i [lij |.i\i r lowly laid '! lle.ir'-l tli'.n llo groans ill:. I r.-l I 'mi 1 l..r-,t the hallow - d grov. I : The fragrant birch, mid hawthorn In. ir. The birds sang love on ■ Till too, loo soon the glowing nest bi speed of winged day. Null i.'.r ill.-.- scenes my mem'ry wal.s, •mis tin ,1 ehanneht dee To III,- d.liiioaliotis ..f III.- poet by himself, ... In order that the r ■ ■-I i„.ii. ( him. and I may ■ llIlM, III 1 .1,1. | I The form of Mossgicl. at lite time of our ,1781 v .- the pro. pcrty of the carl of Loudon, but was held in tack by Mr Gavin Hamilton, writer in Mauch- in we had our bargain; who had ihui an opportunity of knowing and showing a sincere regard for ray brother, before he knew ..-? of his character, 'lie dedication to this \S li. ii the publication wu begun. rerj warmly into it- nnd promoted the subscription >erj l Tliwneh. I ,ti Ayr, is a man of worth and taste, of warm affections, and con- nected with a most respectable did I ;■ this gentleman The Colter'g Saturdav Night is inscribed. The poems of my brother, which I hare formerly mentioned, no sooner came into his hands, than they were quickly known, and well r the' extensive circle of Mr Aiken', friends, ' ' • -n a .-..rt of currency, necessary i rid, even for the good reception of things valuable in themselves. But Mr Aiken not only admired the poet ; as soon as he became acquainted with him, be -1 rd for the man, and did every limit; in his p.. werto forward bis intere-t and . The Epistle to a V ■■■-■■ II. Aiken. . Be WU the oldest of a you n; hmilv, who were taught to receive my Irmlicr with respect as a man of genius mid their father's friend. '•The Brigt of Ajfr is in-.-ribrd to John Bnllantine, E- ; . banker in \>r; one of those gentle ii t.. whom tny trolh-'r was introduced by Mr Aik n. .-hip and attachmeiit . the Kilmarnock edition was all sold oil", and a considerable demand pointed out .f publishing a sccoud edition, who had printed tli, ind take hie ■ paid froai ihe br-t sale. Thi. he declined; and when this came to Mr Bal- lontine's kn . affarad lo It., I. rl wilh w I. .it ii,., n. _v he uii_;tit Idiul.urgh, ns the lillesl place for When he did go to Edinburgh, I advised him to pitbli-ll again by -i . Id not need to accept this offer. Mr Willi:..,, i Uluaraoek, was a subscriber for thirty -live copies of the hiltnnrnock edition. This may perhaps appear urily of the poet, at • nto consideration, it appears lo me a many (lung. rlv printed, which appear note hrlUunl In . . unie. li i-. I.., I BURNS — LIFE. » hah acted the notice of the gentle- ■which will perhaps be found neither u: n the month -,„,h i r bard a; :ing the Scottish r olis. He was acquainted with Mr Stewart, professor of Moral Philosophy in the University, and had been entertained by that . -1 by Mr Alexander Dal- zel to theEarlofGleiicairn, who had expressed his high approbation of his poetical talents. He had friends therefore who could introduce fashion, and his own manners and appearance exceeding every expectation that could have arrived in Edinburgh, the periodical paper, son might be said of him with great propriety, that he held the patent of his honours immediately from Almighty God. Nature had indeed mark- ed him a gentleman in the most legible charac- -"'1 yet a jr~- though frequently beautiful essays, is devoted to An Account of Robert Burns, the Ayrshire written by'the elegant pen of Mr Mackenzie.* The Lounger had an extensive circulation among persons of taste and literature, uot in Scotland only, but in various parts of England, immediately introduced. The paper of Mr ed; as well as generous ; and sentiments there is that happy delicacy, by which the writings of the author are so emi- nently distinguished. The extracts from The Lounger, were copied into the London, as well as into many of the provincial papers, and the fame of our bard spread throughout the island. Of the manners, character, and con- duct of Burns at this period, the following ac- to the editor, which he is particularly happy to Ediu ;r Will „,;, L of Robertlaud, paid a very nattering attention, poet. Before his going to Edinburgh, as well as after, Robert seemed peculiarly pleased with Professor Stewart's friendship and conversa- "But of all the friendships which Robert acquired in Ayrshire or elsewhere, none seemed niore agreeable to him than that of Mrs Dunlop of Dunlop, nor auv which has been more uni. furmly and constantly exerted in behalf of him and of his family ; of which, were it proper, I could give many instances. Robert was on the point of setting out for Edinburgh before -Mrs Dunlop had heard of him. About * u - ' my 1. i Kilm; een afflicted with a long and severe illness, a copy of the printed poems was laid on her tible by a friend, and happening to open on The Cotter's Saturday Night, she read it over poet's descr ttagers, oper- exoreist* expelling the demon ennui and restor- h- w. uld do her th " i' 1 -'- iMir, of calliu| a! Dunk p house as soi e beginning of only with the J rr--j.i-. ndence which life. The last use to this lady a few da 3 sbefc " CoL "Fullarton," who afterwards paid a yeryp the country at the f hi.- 1 thor. At this nee of the hurry of a wet da , sn itched from labori- , hj. ho ought to ha >n, for which, if u 1,..-. I shall be hear ilj > The friendship of 1 ir, 1 Vui l-.t.l," daughter and sol,- ll iress to Sir Thomas Wall; ceof Crai-ie, and lit eal descendant of the iilu.l ious\S'alla;e, the tir t of Scottish wa rr- r ,poss ssesthequali- serving, in the dechne of life, the generous af- fections of youth ; her admiration of the poet was soon accompanied by a sincere friendship for the man ; which pursued him in after life through good and evil report ; in poverty, in 31 DIAMOND CABINEi LIIillAHY. I. our com. I am enabled to which Boron »m. ;,iirr be ratal My excellent and much lamented friend, the . Lord Daer, happened to arrlea at seme day, and bj tin . the mind of the poet, which turret was efTaced. ._ I allude to are among the most poem, had been ju.t pLbli.hed. or was jrt in hi. own hai. d- , tttourile performance, ; particularly of bi> we, "on turning up a Mou,e with hie plough ;"— "on This wot ye all whom it concel I, Rhymer Robin, alius Burn, October tweulv-third, A ne'er -to be-forgolteu day. Sac far I sprachled up the brae, 1 dinncr'd Hi' a Lord. : i hips of the qui Their hydra droutli did slokeu Hut wi' a Lord— aland out my shin, ALord-n Peer— an Earl's son, Up higher yet my bonnet ; In' u- ., I.„r i Ian/ - Our peerage he overlooks them a', As 1 look o'er my sonnet. •r; for Hogarth's magic power! ,how Sir Hard j 'i willy nit glowr, I >nl.hi|i ,ie il'i ii liu.k, 1 marked nought iiucuinim.ii. The gelilh' | , h ,t 1 cuilld .re, Mair lli .m iiu bom 11. - M. ut.t.in )ai.v;"and "the Lament. " I'll D] to Kdinburgh, I show ed ill- of lb* to seseral of my friend -' , .Mr 11.:. . who fin la public notice ,1. 1!: = U'th on mber of Thr Lounger. so' At ., .-.;,' "g Burns 's prospects in life were corny, that he bad ,-ri»u,lj run a |.!n, , f jroing out to Janiaii. rerj In :u„ ig, lhal lit, want of patronage koold fore ehin to thin l.ig than the station of an ■■"'!•' ' Hi ■ wen then, a, tbey con mood dent ; strongly expressive of conscious gen and worth; but without any thing that indi< cd forwardness, arrogance, or vanity. He ti b longed to him; and listened with appar attentloo and deference, on subjects where him of the mean. rating ; but he had been accustomed to gi»e and hi, diead of any thing approaching to somewhat decided and hard. Nothing, perhaps, tainmeiits, than the lluency, and precision, and originality of bia language, when be spoke in purity in hi, turn of expression, and avoided - ...men, I ho Peculiarities of Soottiah phraseology. •• lie tame lo Kdinburgh early in the winter lllowiog, and remained there for several osity to sec a h le l,„t. of the world j but. ided the Wlsl.-V ii.uelh •nine n, iii the. (bra r p.,1 of life ; idditioo of, what 1 ile.ely within huntu the country agr •eable to •• The attentions, he remind during his stay noble yoothfol Dm EURXS.— LIFE. in town from all ranks and descriptions of perceive any unfavourable effect which they plicitv of manners and appearance which had struck me so forcibly when I first saw him in the country ; nor did he seem to feel any addi- tional aelf-iniponance from the number and rank of his new acquaintance. His dress v, as s conversation conveyed of the powers of his ■sted by his writings. Among the poets whom have happened to know, 1 have been struck, more than one instance, with the unaccount- de disparity between their general talents. nred i; whatever walk of a 1 the t th:-ii ainly a favourite one. The remarks he made '< The editor has seen and conversed with always shrewd and pointe. or happy. His attempts at epigram, in Ins perhaps, thai he has produced, totally unwor- thy of his srenius. «' In summer, 17S7, I passed some weeks that season to the Highlands, and That he also the Tweed. ' UP ° n " I should have mentioned before, that not- withstanding various reports 1 heard during the preceding winter, of Burns's predilection for convivial and not verv select society, I should have concluded in favour of his bahits of sobriety, from all of him that ever fell under my own observation. He told me indeed himst If, that the weakness of his ttoraach was very sedentary and luxurious life, v a the c. • of the same I attend for an 1 . where Burns resided. He had occasion to make short npremeditated compliments to different iudi- iduals from whom he had no reason to expect visit, and every thing he said was happily onceived, and forcibly as well as fluently ex- ressed. If I am not mistaken, he told me, bat in that village, ! efore goi::g to Edinburgh, e had belonged"to a small club of such of the ing in public had evidently the marks of si always considered as characteristical in a high degree of true genius, the extreme facility and good nature of his taste, in judging of the compositions of others, when there was any ind for ges of English poetry with which lit was uuacquainted, and have more than once .. ! tears of admiration and rapture with which he heard them. The collection of hands, he read w ith unmixed delight, notwith- standing his former efforts in that very difficult species of writing ; and I have little doubt that it had some effect in polishing his subsequent DIAMOND CABINET LIBKUiv. rlWOtO Franklin's Work*, wl 1 thought vi) nappilj executed, upon the model of Addison; but lie did not appear lo relish, or to perceive the beauty winch tbey derived from their I I pared with the point, and eoti tjuaiiitncss of Junius. The iuJIucuce of thin reentible in his own prose com- P 6" ll " i f great and various ex- objectl of wondei Uian hll poetical perfor- mances. The late Or Robertson used to say, seemed lo hun the more extraordinary of the and other pieces in part of them (lie lo childhood, from hi poems, by diilcreiit aiitiiors, {.relixcd to ller- fey's Mi'ditations ; a book which has alu.iij had a very wide circulation among such of the country pcopL- of Scotland, as allect to unite And "'■■■■ "" ■-■'■• n?" Ihej arc t rUinlj below mediocrity J he continued lo read with a degree of rapture beyond expression. He took worthy character, possessed of a min to what might have been expecte in life. ■• d feeling earl, id from hi ions and example. 1 recollect that he once ipj.licd to him (ami he ailitc.l, that the passage ivus a literal statement of fact J, the two la,! ines of the following passage in the htinttrel, be wli.ile of which lie repeated with great snthiuiarai ; " Slmll I be left forgotten in the dust. \\ uli di-uppuiuluieilt. penury. Olid pain? iMiiuorlul spring shall y Bright through tlr eternal , This truth MtWmt, hit limple sirr hiul tmigkt In ninth Wuiu alnunt uli Um. I t . Boras 'l early eduentin English; and win. I ...ling iu hi. scholar a more than ordinary ardour for knowledge, had been at paint to instruct him in the grammati- cal principles of the language. He began the study of Latin, but dropped it before he had - '■ ed the verbs. I have sometime, beard amor, ice. but they seemed lo be such as he repeated by rote. I think be had a prrject irose from that language. It is possible is knowledge in this respect might be extensive than I suppose it to be ; but u can learn from his more intimate ac- mce. It would be worth while lo in- whether he was able to read the Freuch s with such facility as to receive from iny improvement lo his taste. For my , but on very strong and pointed era- thing of practical geometry, particularly of surveying.— All his other' attainments were •• liie but lime I saw him was during the winter, 17sS-Sy;« when he passed an evening with me al Drumsheugh, in ihe neighbour- hood of Edinburgh, where I was theu liviug. My friend .Mr Alison was the only other in company. I never saw him more agreeable or interesting. A present which .Mr Alison sent him afterwords of his Essays on Taric, drew from Burns a letter of acknowledgment, which 1 remember to have read with some degree of surprise at the distinct conception he appeared from it lo have formed, of the several princi- ples of the doctrine of auoriation. \\ hen I saw Mr Alison in Shropshire la-t autumn, I forgot lo inquire if the letter be siill inex.sience. It it is, v..u nitv easily procure it, by means of our friend Mr 1'loulbrooVe." The scene thai opened on our bard in P..lin- burgh wo, altogether new, and in a rarietj of otli.r respects In. l.li interesting, especially lo one of bis disposition of mind. To piessioll ..1 bis own, be found himself "sud- denly translated from the veriest shades of life, " into 'the pr nee, and, indeed, into the society of a number of persons, previously known lo bun b> report nsof the highest distinction in his country, and who e characters it was natural From the men of letters, in genera . particularly llullering. ■• lllair. Dr lire. ertsoii, Dr Blair. I>r • Mr Mackenrie, and Mi I * Or rather IT8B-90. 1 cannot speak with BURNS. -LIFE. may be mentioned in file list of those who per- ceived his uncommon talents, who acknow- tion, and who interested themselves in the cultivation of his genius. In Edinburgh, literary and fashionable society are a good deal mixed. Our bard was an acceptable guest in the gayest and most elevated circles, and frequently received from female beauty and elegance, those attentions above all others most grateful to him. At the table of Lord Mon- boddo he was a frequent guest ; and while he enjoyed the society, and partook of the hospi- taiii'ies of the venerable Judge, he experienced the kindness and condescension of his lovely and accomplished daughter. The singular anty of this young lady was illumined by that superior understanding, wim me nnescanecuons of the mind. The influence of such attractions was not unfelt by our poet, " There has not been to a friend, "in all the : grace, and eooduess, the Creator has formed, since Milton's Eve on the first day of her ex- istence. " In hi-i Address to Edinburgh, she is celebrated in a strain of still greater elevation: "FairBu net strikes th' adoring re of Love on high, eye, This lovely woman died a few years after- wards in the flower of her youth. Our bard expressed his sensibility on that occasion, in verses addressed to her memory. was particularly distinguished by James, Earl of Glencairn. On the motion of this noble- man, the Caledonian Hunt, (an association of the principal of the nobility and gentry of Scot- land,) extended their patronage to our bard, and liberty. . .". .^ . . . . May corrup- and may tyranny in the ruler, and licentious- ness in "the people, equally find in you an inexo- rable foe ! " timents, uttered at an era singularly propitious to independence of character and conduct, were th^v were" addressed, and that they were echoed from ever? bosom, as well as from that of the E.u-1 of Glencairn. This accomplished noble- 1 isibility, and regularity ; a ?urns entered into several parties of this de- er. His generous affections, his ardent elo- fitted him to be the idol of such associations'; 1 accustoming himself to conversation of un- ited range, and to festive indulgences that rued restraint, he gradually lost some por- gnant pleasures, to be found in the circles alteration in his habits of life operated on him physically as well as morally. The humble fare " an Ayrshire peasant he had exchanged for a luxuries of the Scottish metropolis, and Of the state of his mind at this time, an au- in a book which he procured in the spring of 17S7, for the purpose, as he himself informs Edinburgh, April 9, 17S7. seen a good deal of human life in Edin u'rgh "h«e" en, rks o Mr Palgrave,~that, ' half a word fixed re'eidie: I o means a solitary pleasure. I e to laugh with me, some one to begrav V.Ui minaiion, with his or her own t times, no doubt, to admire my penetration. The world are so busied with s or pleasure, that very few think it u-ound them, except where that !*££ rearing in their fancy. Nor am ithstanding all the sentimental fliOM. l-writers,and the sage philosophy of" moralists, whether we are capable of so as that T;f an may pour out his bosom, his _. soul, with unreserved confident . ict which man deserves from man m the unavoidable imperfections atte if | "For these r. I am determined to make niVMOVI) CABINET LIUtlAUi. these pagci my confidant. I will dutch every I am eo capa troclua' and Achates' pardon, I incomer-,- and key n security, al least e^uul j is called Urf ii of any friend w •' .My own private story likewise, my adventure*, my rambles ; the frowns and > of fortune on my hardship; my poem! an, my heart overflowi litll whit lionally llings purchase sc a m irkel, or honesty w is interest! are uuiled and absorbed by the tie of love- Wlien thought meets thought, ere from the lips And each warm wish springs mutual from the There, confidence — confidence that exalts them the more in one another's opinion, that endears them the more to each unit's hearts, unre- Bervedlv 'reigns and revels.' Hut this, is not my lot; and, in my situation, u 1 am ariae*, (which by the bve 1 have no great chance of being), "'.y fates'hould be cast with the I'.al- mlsl a sparrow 'to watch alone on the house tops. '—Oh, the pity ! II either?" id I The Inte neglects me for the .* of greatness, or when his eye e difference of oar points of elevi- 10 myself, with scarcely any emo- do 1 core for him, or his pomp i of the poet in procuring this , escribed by himself, were very ■Tied in i't seemingly invidious, but too just few or no incidents, but several in friendship, I would cheerluil. and red ttiona, of which the greater part th t eruption— the connexion between | are proper for the public eye, will be found in- most curious particulars in the book axe the delineations of the characters he met with. These are not numerous; but they are chiefly of persons of distinction in the republic of letters, and nothing but the delicacy and re- spect due to living characters prevents us from committing them to the press. Though it appears that in his conversation he was some. with whom he lured, nothing of tins kind is discoverable in these more dclibera' his understanding, which, while they exhibit great clearness o' discrimination, ni the wish, as well as the power, to bestow high as praise. By the new edition of his poems. Burns ac- quired a mi in of money that enabled lum not inly to partake of the pleasures uf Ediuburgb, " There are few of the sore evils under the the ."imparl-... n how a man of geuiii,] uuv , „f uvnwed worth, is received every where, with the reception which a mere ordinary eharael r, decorated with the trappings and futile disiiuc. tious of fortune, meets. 1 imagine a man of abilities, his Im-asl glowing with lionet pride, honour (.) whom honour in due ; he meet., it a treat man's table, a Sijuire something, or a , ; he knowa the noble landlord, nt heart, gives the bird, or whatever lie i,, a ;ood wishes, beyond, perhaps, any one at table; yet hoiv will it itu.rt I'y him to seo a fellow, whoso nbilities would scarcely have mode an rightpnmy tailor, heart is not worth three farthings, mi .• withheld Iron: rallj r. parts of his live by their beauty or their grau- ire which th,. return of summer na- 1 'w I, an. I of its tributary - inter.. ted his fancy ; and, Edinburgh on tho'tith of May, 17S7,'ou a lour through a country so much celebrated in the rural songs of Scotland. He travelled on horseback, and was accompanied, part of his journey, by Mr Aiuslie, now writer to who enjoyed much of I", friendship and of his com contains only occasional remarks on the sceu- co'uiit of the author'.' dilterelit stages, and the sou ol . •• The noble G hoi wounded a the soul here, b.-.-IU-e 1 .1 iMootton, i,,. t.. the listed of in . lordship, dun that I was with,,, hill a ;....-.[ .,1 thr •. down my gogi 1 I.. ,' e I SO I ell. .Vol, good at pail. I I I ill love hilll table „llll tUl until my d, i ■ of llerr.vw. as,; and a ., he contiuued several days, and an —LIFE. Drybiirgh a "erence to living characters prevents our givio "Saturday, May 6. Left Edinburgh— Lan mermuir hills, miserably dreary in genera eeting l arly tl Heard Dr Bowmaker. . . . "Monday. Coldstream — glorious at Coldstream with MrAinslie and Mr Forei Beat Mr Foreman in a dispute about Volt Drink tea at Lennel-House with Mr and Brvdoae. . . . Reception extremely do ing. Sleep at Coldstream. " Tuesday. Breakfast at Kelso— chan Tweed. Enchanting views and prospeci both sides of the river, especially on the S( side. . . . VL,it Roxburgh Pilace- situation of it. Ruins of Roxburgh Castle — was accidentally killed by the cannon. A small old religious r old garden planted by the religioi aud destroyed by a Hottentot, a i> of the Duke's ! — Climate and so shire, and even Roxburghshire, si _ shire — bad roads — turnip and sheep husbandry their great improvements. . . . Low m~- kets, consequently low lands — magnificence farmers and farm-houses. Come up the T« T - J *o Jedburgh, to lie, and sh myself goo_ „ " Wednesday. Breakfast with Mr Fa dens and orchards, J ■:-,]. once magnificent cathedral. All the towns here have the appearance of old rude grandeur, but extremely idle. — Jed, a tine romantic little river. Dined with Capt. Rutherford, . . . retu.n to Jedburgh. Walked up the Jed with some ladies to be shown Love-lane, and Black- burn, two fairy scenes. Introduced to .Mr Poets, writer, and to Mr Somerville, •"-- clergyman of the parish, a man, and a gei man, but sadly addicted to punning. _ , "Jedburgh, Saturday. Was presented by the masistrales with the freedom of the town. "Took farewell of Jedburgh, with some melancholy sensations. "Monday. May 11, Kelso. Dine with the farmer's club— all gentlemen talking of high matters — each of them keeps a hunter from L30 to L50 value, and attends the fox-hunting club in the country. Go out with Mr Ker, one oftheciub, and a friend of Mr Ainslie's, abbey, by the way. le up the Tweed to lkirk up the banks exploring this ind Mr Hood, a-mitage and old castle of Warkswortli lorpeth, and Newcastle. — In this town 1 lent two days, and then proceeded to tl mth-west by Hexham and Wardrue, to Ca sle. —After spending a few days at Carlis ith his friend Mr .Mitchell, he returned in cotland, and at Annan his journal terminat bruptly. Of the various persons with whom he b e course of this journe ,,,■!.: urable oi n the >f the Ti bard should find nymphs that were beautiful, of these are particularly described in his journal. But it does not appear that the scenery, or its produced any effort of his mus as" to have been wished am ,; ,.. .,.\i' Vnnan, Bur ns proceeded to D4fri-s'. J Mossgiel, luchline, in "Ayrshire, where he arrived leSthof Jt ne, 17S7, after an absence busy and e It will be onceived w and pride received b} his mother, his brothers, id left them poor s ; he returned t them high jst farthing, the pittance owed. with them a few days, he dinburgh, and immediate- ey to the Highlands. Of In his i - -. a friend of Mr id and manners, Mr Ker my dear old friend Robert g in his house elegant. He accompanv me in my English tour. st%. Dine with Sir Alexander Don ; night's stage, Duml now I ai ered y From this journey I riends in Ayrshire, with whom he spent the nonth of July, renewing his friendships, and extending his acquaintance throughout the - — very generally isited Edinburgh, ne • -----i ■»-..• DIAMOND CAUINI.l LIURUIY. « following hi. not expressing in more plowing end fer.ij language, bi. impressions of the Cauldrvn Ltim . nl] bigblf sublime, and wmenbal * of Cla.kmi •truck. Th< and III Inhabitants, lu (be care of Cyclop*, which must have occurred lo every classical visitor, presented itself lo Burns. At Stirling Ihe prospects from (he castle strongly inter- HI liourvl feelings had been "•"' '. l'.rl.m. 5 on udent, t as, which had gi ■ll-i took this opport mil) ot ,r the ti •• At Stirling we met w m and thoughtlessness of tomorrow, ■ized both. Jacobiiical principles in 'e been suspected, since the revolution s apparently opposi eserved no memorab through the roniai and IVi on other occasions, hich I mention foi t when Burns wo; »n. accustomed, in one or other of hi: tone and emphasis lie. This he did 01 „„ .hire habited by Mrs Hamilton, will pait of whose family Uiirns had been previous- ly acquainted. He introduced me to the family, and there was formed my first ocquair lance wilh Mrs Hamilton \i eldest daughter, I Thus WU. I iiid-Me.il.. Hun,, for iwuiirjio from which I have derived, and expect furlhi ••During I residence of about ten days l parls of the surrounding scenery, inferior lo none in Scotland, in beauty, sublimity, and romantic interest ; psjtieularlj I bell tl • Of Afgylo; iho Cauldron Linn ; and the Ra single rown by II about Ihe height of a hundred feel obo' bed. 1 run lou.e. Mill 1 duubl II lie li id ml I.,.- pleturssqtM, I «.n rsrosmbsr, that tl: ..;.mird us o .: f liliiiurul . lady a „ lent ornament, interested his feelings more powerfully. Ibis T-nerable dame, w.th charac- i- r ,'ioa.l dignity, infotmed me, on my observing hat I believed she was descended from Ibe fam- ily of Robert Bruce, that Robert Bruce was sprung from her f.mily. Though almost de- prived of speech by a paralytic affection, she pre»erved her hospitality and ml — in possession of the hero's helmet and landed sword, with which she conferred on Burns and myself the honour of knight - — J remarking, that she had a better right to onclude thai it old lady's el's, a conformity which contributed not a lie to the cordiality of our reception and aev- tainment.— She gave as her first toast alter iner, Aica, L'ncot, or. Away wilh the Slran- rs Who these strangers were you will idily understand. Airs A. corrects me by ling it ihoald be Hooi, or UooJti tatcM, a ••We Returner "to Ediuburgh by Kinross (on ihe shore of Lochleven) and Qiirensfcrrr. poor Michael Bruce, who was then alive at Kinross, or had died there a short while before. deserted cottage and eorly grave of poor Bruce, would have been highly interesting. x ■'At Dunfermline we visited the ruined abbey, and the abbey-church now eonsecral.d to Presbyterian worship. Here 1 mounted the cutty «W, or 6tool of repentance, assum- while Hums from the pulp I addressed lo ire from that which had been delivered "to birr.self once been one of seven who mounted the sroJ of " In the church. yard two broad flag-slones marked Ihe grave of Robert Pnuni, lion. He knell and kissed the stone with saered fervour, and hearlil) (rant ut mot rroi) execrated the worse than tiothic neglect of lite first of Scottish heroes, "t The surprise expressed by Dr Adair, in his excellent letter, that the romantic scenery of Ihe Devon should h«>e tailed to call forth any I in more glowing laogusge his emotions on the sight of the famous cataract ol thai river, is similar lo what was felt bv ihe friends of Burns on other occas * Bros d...l snag | I l'tlracled from a letter .1 Dr Aua.i BURNS.- tame nature. Yet the inference that Dr Adair seems inclined to draw from it, that he had little taste for the picturesque, might be ceic,-'- dbv other often refu On a Young Lady, residing on the tanks of Ih small river Devon, in Clackmannanshire, bi whose infant years were spent in Ayrshire. she came uncalled, i nd at his bidding. Of ail ts suggested to him by his iricnos ana correspondents, there is scarcely one that he adopted. The very expectation energies of fancy, it' cum, nunc., ted to Burns, ■■:' 1 be explained, why the hanks of the Devon and the Tweed form no part of the sulj-cu of his A similar t mng may p viewed tbe Cauldron Linn. Cert are no aftections of the mind more deader, by the influence of previous expectation, lb those arising from the sight of natural objec and more especially of objects of grandet !t bud on the braes of tl veys an adequate idea of such objects, bi the mind of a great poet it may excite a ture that far transcends them. The ima< lion of Burns might form a cataract in l. pirUnn with which th, Cauldrc.-i Linn sh ■ u!J seem the purling of a rill, and even the mi " fails of -Niagara a humble cascade.* u;,h.:. : . a: !; , % ery of the Devon with the eye pjet, the following lines, written at this very period, may bear witness. * This reasoning might be extended will kind! To' have formed before-hand a distinct pictur ^ th'them" Though be not superior, or even equal to the reality, which lasted during the remaim Mr Nicol was of Dumfries-shi of a descent equallv humble with our po ' e rose by the strength of his talen and fell by the strength of his passions. " d in the summer of 1 797. Having recen ! elements of a classical instruction at rish school, Mr Nicol made a very rapid a gular proficiency ; and by early u'ndertaki ! office of an instructor himself, he acquit ing, generally lessens the pleasure of the d Dr Bro tniporary at st::; it t v ; ,,c nt;.tst e produced. In such cases the second or third inten iew gives more pleasure than the first. See the Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Hind, by Hr s: urn*, p. 4S4. Such publications as The Guide to the Lakes, where every scene is de- guaje, are in this point of view objectionable. perhaps of some well-ft -Vice!, by superior learning, carried it from all the other candidates. This office he filled at the period of which we speak. = Ian :!ru; t. t fails of this effect, i tl.rnatire pride of temper, which treats with disdain those delicacies in which it bu uot learned to excel. It was thus with Ibc fellow- travelier cf Burns. Formed by nature in a model of great strength, neither lus person nor ii they engaged for tlic j.uruey, cud passing through the heart of ibc II ighlauds, .rthwarda, about ten miles beyond Inverness. There they bent thi i shore of the uVrmau ^ea to Edinburgh. In which will be 'found' in a letter of our Lard, they visited a number of remarkable scenes, and the imagination of Burns was constantly excited by the wild and sublime scenery through which he passed. Of this, several proofs may be found in the poems for- merly printed " Of the history of one of these poems, The humbk Petition of Bruar Water, and of the bard's visit to Athole II particulars will be found in Letters No. 33. ai«i 1. by the favour ,.f Mr Walker of Perth, then rending in the family of thi " ' of Athole, we arc enabled to give the fol " Un reaching Blair, he sent me no inn. The Duke, to whom he brought i of introduction, was from home; b Duchess, being informed of bis arrival, gave him an invitation to sup and sleep at Athole House, lie accepted the invitation ; but, ar the hour of supper was at torn.- i. ged I would in the interval be his guide tbrou-l the grounds. It was already growing dark ; yet the softened, though faint and nneert un, view of their beauties, which ii. afforded us, seemed exacllv suited to the st t, lings at the time. I had often, likl others, experienced the pleasures which STUM fr..iii the sublime or elegant landscape, but I never saw those feelings so intense as iii Burns. Tilt. wber. nice, Emm he threw turns) If do lb help bVinltilg it nii-hl have been here which he afterwards introduced into h, Or bv th reaper's nightly beam. i difficulty I prevailed 01 wbst he bad been a He appeared to have complete reliance c own native good sense for directing his viour. lie seemed at once to perceive s appreciate what was due to the empau to himself, and never to forret a proper r II l 1 not arrogate o nd manliness, lie tried to exert his abilities, ecause he knew it was ability alone gave him title to be there. Tbc Duke's fine young rank their healths as honrit men and btmnie uses, an idea which was much applauded by be company, and with which be has very ftli- itously closed his poem. ride with him through ic of the i ourbood, and was highly gratii'u onceptiot of that i and strength of expression, 1 will remark which he made on his fellow, traveller, who was walking at the time a few paces before us. He was a man of a robust but clumsy person ; and while Burns was ex- of bis " .Much attention was paid to Bums both be/ore and after the Duke', return, of which be was perfectly sensible, without being vain; the must appropriate return he could make, to write some descriptive verses on any of the liich he had been so much de- lighted. After leaving Blair, he. by the Duke's advice, visited the Full, of Knur, aud in a few days 1 received a letter from Inverness, - inclosed." "J It appears that the impression made by our poet on the nolle family of Athole wa» in 4 i the reception he n, them, and he often mentioned the two days be .p. nt at Alhule-house as among ihe bsppievt of his life. lie was warmly invil.-.l BURNS LIFE. been introduced to Mr Dundas (then daily ex- pected on a visit to the Duke), a circumstance Burns ''future fortunes. At Athole- house, he met, for the first time, Mr Graham of Fintry, office in the Excise. The letters and poems which he addressed to Mr Graham, bear testimony of his sensibil- ity, and justify the supposition, that he would been elevated to a situation better suited to his A few days after leaving Blair of Athole, our poet and his fellow-traveller arrived at Fochabers. In the course of the preceding winter Burns had been introduced to the Duchess of Gordon at Edinburgh, and pre- suming on this acquaintance, he proceeded to Gordon Castle, leaving Mr Nicol at the inn in the village. At the castle our poet was re- ceived with the utmost hospitality and kind- ness, and the family being about to sit down Fellow- o send a servant to couduct Mr Nicol to the Burns insisted on undertaking that offic self. He was, howeier, accompanie dby a gentleman, a particular acquaintance Duke, by whom the invitation was de in all the forms of politeness. The inv nation w hich he had'already suffered* He had ordered the horses to be put to the carriage, being de- termined to proceed on his journey alone: and they found him paradinsr the streets of Focha- bers, before the door of the inn, venting his anger on the postilion, for the slowness with which he obeyed his commands. As no ex- planation nor entreaty could change the pur- pose of his fellow-traveller, our poet was reduced to the necessity of separating fro n him entirely, or of instantly proceeding with him on their journey. He chose the last of these alternatives : and seating himself beside Nicol in the post chaise, with mortification Castle,° where he had promised himself some happy days. Sensible, however, of the great kiudness of the noble family, he made the best return in his power, by the following poem. * Streams th t glide in or if Ne d by wint wing he Fr ,-,i Th »se, their richly g anks ly Castle- Gordon. Hapless wretches sold to tc Or the ruthless native's we Eent on slaughter, blood, e Dearest to the feeling soul, She plants the forest, pours the flood, Life's poor day I'll musing rave, And find at night a sheltering cave, Where waters (low and wild woods wave, By bonnie Castle Gordon, f Burns remained at Edinburgh during the tered into the society and dissipation of that ■ 31st the birth-day of the lineal descendant ol cottish race of kings, the late unfortunate e Charles Edward. Whatever mighl utorsofthis annual meeting, there is nc a to suppose that the gentlemen of which is at this time composed, were not per- fectly loyal to the king on the throne. It is hope of, any wish for, the restoration of the which th? recoUectmn of faUen g calculated to inspire ; and commemorated the upon himself the office of poet-laureate, and produced an ode, which, though deficient in the complicated rhythm and polished versifica- tion that such compositions require, might, on a fair competition, where energy of feelings won the butt of Malmsey from the real laureate Nor think to lure us as in days "of yore, We solemnize this sorro"wing"natal day, To prove our loyal truth— we can no more ; And, owning Heaven's mysterious sway , Submissive, low, adore. DIAMOND CABINET I.IBRAKY. From great Dundee, w Ami fell* •IV. bold I5.ii;. host) soul, of lire, lighted a Deuces the tin claim ..-.ill d Not unrevenged yuur fate shall be ; It only logs, the fatal hour ; Your blo..d abjiU with incessant cry Awake at last th' unsparing power As lr..m the cliff, «.lli ihiiinl.-rnig cu Willi doubling speed and gathering 1 11 deep it crashing is helms the cottage i In relating the incidents of our poet's life i Ed.nburgh, we ought to have mentioned lb seutimenls of respect and sympathy with whicl he traced out the grave of his predecesso J-'ergusson, over whose ashes, in the Canongal genius, many « hel-oniinu'd"'! Neither should iendabi perienced from ng, il. amiable nnd accomplisl ed Blacklock.- -To ins ig-.ng udiice i was owing (U has al id] ip. >enred) that 11 West Indies, repaired to lidi ■ huigi.. He re- ceived him there with all the ardour of allec- tionatc admira on ; be eagerly i lllird ced him generous and feeling heart, i Burns was Mr Uamsiiy of Ochtertyre, Of 1787, nt bu delightful retirement in i Siiii.ng, mid on the haul ih- Teith. 01 toil visit we have the folkn l i, im i. en iii iii ■ - of it ..I III.- III. .11. in., re delighted, tin retort-, man will my for two da)s, tt le-u-t.lt-. In mixed company I shuulJ lime in.ide little o hull ; for, in the ;• mi. -.!.T's phr.ise, he did lie * In Hi. I lielllllil'lll in . i lie... ii. always know when So pliy off end when to play on. . . I n»t or.ly prop-. ■• . to him l),o ttrMiii^'of i play similar In me I hrrd, qualtm drcrt rsse mrrorrm, i . j. let which Thouisou has by no a pencil e Gtnlle Shrphcrd, Bol to bum' wanting. might It-ral-d her of these plans, :uon from company were not talents. When I asked bin. the Edinburgh Literati bsd mended hi- poems by llieir criticisms, • S j-, ' said be, ' these gentlemen remind me of some spinsters that it is neither lit fur weft nor woof. ' He said he had nut changed a word except one, to please Dr Blair."* Having settled with hit publishrr.Mr Creech, in February, 17SS, Burns found himself mas- ter of nearly live hundred pounds, after dis- charging all bis expenses. Two hundred pounds he immediately advanced to his brother Gilbert, who bad taken upon himself the support of their aged mother, and was strug- gling uitu'manv. difficulties in the farm of With the remainder of Ibis sum, and some further eventual profits from bis poems, be determined on settling himself for from Mr Miller of Dalswimon," the^arnTof n put on the list of cand office of a gauger or ei When Horn- had in ibis manner arranged i plans for futurity, his generous heart ned to the object of his most ardent atlacb- ise of honour and affection, he joined with i and reudering it peruia- legulizing Iheir mill known in Edinburgh, a ail poetii h.ul r. ciiiiiiriidej him to .Mr Miller of |).ils»i,,(„n. I .... Mr Miller hid in. ilea him in lb I. s.. to ii. .. him at the same lime Ihe ch.lce of oil) of his • ,: Ukr front Mr Ramuu to lha I >r.- he n.riM.I in Edinburgh ; for, iu regard to I I II. i III, .1 v> In. Il in . . ■ BURNS LIFE, his friends might judge proper. It was not in the nature of Burns to lake an undue advan- tage of the liberality of Mr Miller. He pro- than usual deliberation. ' Having made choice of the farm of Ellisland, he employed two of his friends, skilled in the value of land, lo ex- arent to' Mr Miller, which was immediately ac- cepted. It was not convenient for Mrs Burns Ellisland, to prepare for the reception of his end of the year. The situation in which Burns now found himself was calculated to awaken reflection. The different steps he had of late taken were said to have, in some measure, fixed his destiny. He had become a husband and a father ; he had engaged in the nil"-™"' «■■* = -«"-- derable farm, a difficult taking; in h family was il s respeciing'the fu ually the slate of his io.ru folio? AY ill none of you in pitv What 'tis you are, and ' Will make us wise as yc where, as Thomson says ' Tell us, ye dead : shortly be'? ' gladly laj me in my the silly vessel, or in the listless •>--- ~ :J dy follies, ugh half- eck. Farewell now to those g lined by the bewitching levity- poisoning the whole, that, like the p'lains of barren, and nothing short of a supernaturally- osity, honest pride of ! own happiness for >nld depend (which it urge the step I have taken. Nor Under the impulse of these reflections he himself resumed at times the occupalim his skUl°imp r aired.^! I pieas e e'd with surveying "he the rearing of a building that -Iu u!d £i\ e ; heli- r to his wife and children, and, as he fondly domestic content "and peace rose 'en his ima- gination ; and a few days passed away, as he himself informs us, the most tranquil, if not s of bis farm was interrupted by * Animated sentiments of any kind, almost .Iwavs gave rise in cur poet to some produc- ion of his muse. His sentiments on thisocca- ion were in part expressed by the following I hae a wife o' my ain, I'll partake wi' nae-body ; I'll gie cuckold to nae-bedy. There— thanks to nae-body ; I'll borrow frae nae-body. I am nae-body 's lord, I'll be slave to nae-body; I'll tak dunts frae nae-body. I'll be sad' for nae-body ; If nae-body care for me, I'll care for nae-body. 46 DIA.VOXD CABINET CYBBABT. journey, Ik letter to the editor, " when passing through Dumfries-shire, on a tour lo Ibe south, with t'.-il int.. company, :'ud for ;ot lb i 1 l.uss. Seeing him put quickly he bad formed. In ■ little while temptation irn, 1 said to my companion, • that tin coming to the inn, the hostler told us he would be back in a few hours lo "ill, fame naturally drew upon him the in- tention of hi. neighbours, and In- soon formed grant permits; that where he met wilb any a enteral acquaintance in th- .li,lrict in which I,.- lived. The publie voice had now pro. thing seizable be was no better than any other gauger, in every thing else, he was perfectly a lion need on the subject of his talents; the re- ception he had met with in Edinburgh had lo him on his return, I proceeded to his bouse. hi'iiu.Uurmn^i'liJ ..; pleased wilh his uxor Sabina qualii, and the Ill- humid- birth, and In- v..., received at the table of the gentlemen of Xitllsdalc w til wel- deuiy bounced in upon us, and said, as he entered, I come, to use the words of Shak- , , overthrew speare, jlrtced in haste. In fact, he bad ridden incredibly tast after receiving my note. We flamed 1 nieh temperance fell .into conversation directly, and soon got inio the mare magnum of poetry. He told me ti refore, be- that he had now gotten a story for a drama. i; m began lo riew b i farm with dislike which he was lo call Rob Marqutchan't Elthoa, vulgarly called, goo betook himself to th milder,, striding s turned up fur lied the principa m f Rotcrt Bruce b> rs looked j deleated ou the water of Caern, when the heel " s boot having loosened in his flight, he sd to Robert Macquechan lo fix it ; who, king's heel. We were now going on at a great fhich put a stop to our discourse, which had ecorac very interesting. Yel in a littl- while t was resumed, and such was the force and ersntility of the bard's genius, that he made be tears run down Mr S 's cheeks, lti.il unn,rd 10 the poetic strain he reports of him afterwards, wc shall hardly ever see his like as, in truth, a sort of comet in ,._.„., high- * The r ocm of The Wfl Mr Ki.ldel died .-Icgiuc vers n, memory nrd. i: till be 1 Iron. e found I member, of hi, family. Hum, recti kindness only but friend, hip ; and the sneiel) serai "i Friar's Carse was calcu- lated to improve hi, habit, n, v.. II nets. Mr J roch, to well known I . il talent,, 11. i our p... I. Sir li the tin,, | p.i... , ,.., . >in ,| I, ,, 1 l.i ill. I mles ul his count. | ' 5? u, £ Dt do good proportioned to the blaze of light displayed." imerof 1791, two English gentle- ..i i...r.,» .... , „ :,i. i.;.„ l« r.. ... i, who had before n t EUisland. On re Intel ' "e.l ill anglil.L-. loose greal-coi broad-sword. Ihein with great cordiality, and asked Ibem lo share hi, humble dinner— an invitation which they accepted. On the table llley found boiled beef, with •emtablea and 1 .rl.'v.broih, after the manner of Scotland, of which they partook heartily. After dinner, the bard lo-ld them ingenuously thai he had no win lb. in, nothing better than Highland whisky, a bottle of which Mr. Iliirns set on ;he board, lie produced Si ihe same time hi, punch, bowl, made of lmcrary marble, and. mixing the spirits with water and sugar, filled their glusses, and itnil.d Ihein lo drink.* The + This bowl was i le of the sl.i BURNS— LIFE. travellers were in haste, and beside 9, the flavour of the whisky to their louthrc h pa- lates was scarcely tolerable; but th erous poet offered them his best, a J" bU Excise, and the society into" which they led, resist. Burns was in his happiest moo i, and choly fate of Burns. His great celebrity made him an object of interest and curiosity to stran- ariety gers, and tew persons of cultivated minds pas- die 1. sed through Dumfries without attempting to He related the tales of his infancy and A Lis , and to enjoy the pleasure of his trie 'in- ions iii„ p werful mind . The h gh- land wh skyir bie bowl wa saga ished ;' the gu estsof ght of time, [he ui tates of pruc hour of midni jht il... ■ lo=t their , ing to u-cely wh •a. ass sted by th mc rnii *Bes"id shis duties n the Excis and his so- cial pleasure; othei t,., j-ed with the Burns to h s far engaged in ll e form. ng books among mers oY he he o ecu ied himself onally ,g -e ork of Mr Johnson f pu blicatio n. These n r a_- nd h buted, no doubt, t 5 the abstra hla thought tr.m the In »iness of agr ■iiltu good management of Mrs Burns, and though his rent was moderate and reasonable, oul poet found it convenient, if not necessary, to resign his farm to Mr Miller ; after having oc- cupied it three years and a half. His office in the Excise had originally produced about fifty new district, the emolu- ig to support himself and m, he disposed of his stock Sllisland by publi ments of which r per annum. Hop his family on this it thee h he had tak- the irregularitii temptations to the si7i that so easily beset regularities grew by degrees into habits. gag< ,n the b jf relaxation ; and though he rjlearly foresaw the consequence of yielding finally triumphed over all the power; u: his will Yet this victory was not obtained with- tion of one of th< And among the inhabitants of Dumfries and its vieii.it/, there were never wanting persons pany him to the tavern ; to partake in the wildest sallies of his wit; to witness the strength and degradation of his genius. Still, however, he cultivated the society of persons of taste and respectability, and in their muse dormant. In the four years which he he attempted any poem of considerable length. During this time, he made several exenrsions into the neighbouring country, of one of which through Galloway, an account is preserved in a letter of Mr Syme, written soon after; which, as it gives an animated picture of him by a correct and masterly hand, we shall pre- sent to the reader. " I got Burns a grey highland shelty to ride tion on the banks of the Dee. In the evening from which we had as tine a view of Alpine scenery as can well be imagined. A delightful soft evening showed all its wUder as well as its grander graces. Iniinediately opposite, and within a mile of us, we saw Airds, a the author of Mary iceep no more for me. t This was classical ground for Burns. He viewed "the highest hill which rises o'er the source of Dee;" and would have staid till "the passing spirit" had appeared, had we noi resolved to reach Kenmore that night. We arrived as Mr and Mrs Gordon were sitting d holmX till it expands it f A beautiful and well-known ballad, which ° The moon had climb 'd the highest hill Which rises o'er the source of Dee, And, from the eastern summit, shed i The level low" ground on the banks of a iv'er or stream. This word should be adopted rom the Scottish, as, indeed, ought several thers of the same nature. That dialect is ingularly copious and exact in the denomina- ions of natural objects. mil.-* Ion?, the banks or which, on the south, I, ue ami soft landscape of greet knolls, natural wo.-d, and here and. there a pre] rock. Ou the north, the aspect is- great, .IilNET LIURAV.Y. Tby fool '• head, quoth S uc than the cattle ot BHumr. so highly of it, thai he meditate Indeed, l4.ehes Curdon, whose polished hospi Lblj romw. ' ■ ha began Mrs Cordon 's lap-dog. Echo, was dead, hhe wculd have i epitaph for him. Several had been mad Ye jarring screeching things around, Scream your duteordanljoja ; sky was sympathetic with the wretchedness of the soil ; it became lowering and dark. The hollow winds ached, the lightnings gleamed, the thunder rolled. The poet wrapt in meditation. In a little while' the rain began to fall; it poured in floods upon us. For three hours did the wild elements rumUe ■ UUy-fuU upon our defe nk ' r i„*i„ I,,.// IV. »r>l nil Oh, oh ! ..i utterly wet r getting utterly drunk. '•From Gatehot . Kirkcudbright, through a fine country. But ben 1 imi-i tell iou that Burns had got a pair of Jemmy boots tor the journey, which had been thoroughly wet, and which'liad been dried in them on again The brawny poet tried foice, of toil sort is more trsing to the temper If-*- - serious calamity. We were going to him. Mercy on ur. huw be did fume and rage ! that succeeded. I showed him • • • •, across the bay of Migton. Agajnst expectorated his spleen, and regained a most bumblat . ■ • whom he dur. not lose. He had a passing blow at him. • Well, I at to bring yon to Kirkcudbright -^et, without U ro.s my saddle in spile of bis d in contempt of appearance* j . carried tbeai . Lai. led they Dalzell. But Burns was in a wild and objtre- ., therefore, oa Mr I dine with us in the inn, and had a sery agree- able party. In the evening at »' ur twice to him. as he rode along, that SI .Mary's Isle was the seat ot a Lord; in his sense of the word. We arnred alout coffee, hit Mary 's Isle U one of the most de- lightful places that can, in my opin.on.be form- ed by the assemblage of ever} soft but not tame otject which constitutes natural and cul- tivated beauty. But not to dwell ou its exter- nal graces, iet me tell you that we (bund ail the family (all beautiful,) at borne, but CJrt e ltaliai Iso. We bad the song of Loi- all.ng on Burns to recite hit ballad to ih.il a silence as a mind of fee.ing naturally pie. which banishes even other thought but the contemplation and indulgence of the sympathy produced. I -.in my opinion, a most beautiful and affecting ballad. The fastidious critic may perhaps say, some of the sentiments and imagery are of loo elesa- led a kind for such a style of composition; for instance, ••ibou bell of Heaven thai pass- es! by ;" and, •' Ye nastleriag than but ibis is a cold-b;ooded objecuoo. which w.u be said rather ll fed a most happj esening at LorJ Selkirk's. We bad. meseiy ■ensMgJ ibe vscic, were .quails gratiued. The poet Has ed with bis company, and acquitted hiuis.il lo admiration. 1 he lion thai bad raged .o sio- leotl] iu the morning, was uow a> mild and geulie as a lamb, -Vat da« we returned to Dumfries, aud ao ends oui peruuilri— • volunteers, and employed bis political talent, in atimulatin:; 1 1 ■ . ■ . r patrioti»iii ; and at this season of alarm, he brought forward the fol- lowing bymn, worth] of the (irecian muse, ■ was mo.l conspicuous for genius Scene— A Field of Battle— Time of the day, Ihc tcounded and dyin my ai t supposed to join in the foU loicing Song. Farewell, thou fair day, thou green eorlli, and .Ml, th.. bright slli.gslln; Our race of existence is Thou grim king of terror Go, frighten the cowan ti lit. • = . fell tyrant ! Lut No terrors' hast thou to the brave ! Thou striked the dull peasant, he sinks in the ■',. of a ' riod of life, to that of digestion, which thought, ami whicl sometimes the cam Connected with th bead-ache, affeetio. , . .s and eyc-balls, and I the heart. Endowed by nature his corporeal, u well as in his mental system, Mu-ical .Museum. The I l.. music, ■ t The milti.i'l nr.l..,,, srd tbi ihrc .i.n.-d invasion, •' " ' 'I', n n.'ij I ilo- i eive Donuluritv to this noblt ] m ; wbloh, to ii in am produ printed with his last eomo- ine illllol . I to disease, which strict temperar regular exercise, and sound sleep, night base subdued, habits of a different nator. ened and inflamed. Perpetually stimulated by alcohol in one or other of it* various forms, the inordinate actions of the circulating system be- came at length habitual : the process of nutri- tion was unable to supply the waste, and the powers of life began to fail. Upwards of a year before his death, there was an evident de- cline in our poet's personal appearance, and .Turned unimpaired, he wus himself >• -usi, !e that bis constitution was ! omenta of thought be reflect- ed with the deepen regret on bis fatal progress. clearly foreseeing the goal towards which be . Dg, ■ thout the strength of mind or even to slacken his course. ; became more irritable and gloomy ; he fled from himself into society kind. And in such com. I-.,..... th I part of the convivial scene, in Which » ases sensibility snd excites benevolen hurried over, to reach the succecdin 5 part, o er which uncontrolled pas- generally presided. He who nxSers the ition of inebrialiou, bow shall be escape oilier pollution ? But let us refrain from the mention of errors over which delicacy and humanity draw the veiL In the midst of all his wanderings. Bums met nothing in his domestic circle but genlle- ■ ept in the gaawiugs of his own reumrse. He acknov. HI to the wife of his i ceived pardon for his oflences. But as the strength of his body decayed, bis resolution became feebler, and habit acquired predomina- ting strength. From Ociober, 1792, to the January follow- ing, an accidental complaint confined him to the house. A few days after he began to go abroad, he dined at a tavern, and returned bonio about three o'clock in a very cold morning. Le- an attack of rheumatism, which confined him about a week. His appetite now began to fail : his hand shook, and bis voice faltered on weaker and mor of the enjovnu much dejected ii of his real situi tain in the larg ng bleep. Ti« desolation of his family, and his spirits sunk It was hoped In some of his friends, that if he could livr through the months the succeedin linn. 1,1 ppointed, 'llie genial beams of the sun infused no vigour into his languid frame; the summer wind blew upon him, lut produced no refreshment. Aboai the latter snd of June he win adiiscj 10 M into the country, and, iiopalieut of medici - mined fot himself to try th- i Ins purpose he took up Ii residence ul llrow, in Anuaudale, about I, of Hn • lady with it bappencd thai ■ BURNS—LIFE. connected" iu friendship by SI a the immediate neighbourhood. Being in- clined of his arrival, she invited him to din- rer, and sent her carriage for him to the cottage The ith his appearance on entering the rooi brink of eternity. Hi doubtful case which of us should e=t, and that I hoped that he we itaph. (I was th state of health.) Hf tomed sensibility. At table he a nothing, and he complained of having ach. We 1 arthly p a,i;)i-o soph;.. tentation of philt vilh firmness as well as feeling-, event unely to happen very soon, andwhic re him concern chiefly from leaving his foti ildren so young and unprotected, pectation of lying in of a fifth. H< ig marks of approbation he had received fron Iters, and dwelt particularly on his hope: of that boy 's future conduct and merit. Hi: anxiety for his family seemed to hang heavj ing from this subject, he showed great concern bis writing would be revived against him t< the injury of his future reputation : that let ters and verses written with unguarded ant improper freedom, and which he earnestl; handed about by idle vanity or malevolence ' He lamented that he had v should be sorry to wound ; and many indiffer now, with all their imperfections o be thrust upon the world. On thia accouii his papers into a state of arrangement, as h The lady goes on to mention many other topic " The conversation," she adds, "was kept u with great evenness and animation ou his side I had seldom seen his mind greater or mor collected. There was frequently a consider able degree of vivacity in his sallies, and thev not the concern and dejection I could no't dis guise, damped the spirit of pleasantry he " We parted about sunset on the evening of that day (the 5th of July, 1796; ; the next nished. On the fourth, the sufferings of this Flagrant as hi, foil heart. The Gentlemen Volunteers of Don- ation was made to render this last service solemn and impressive. The Fencible Infan- try of Angus-shire, and the regiment of cavalry the funeral pi of p dfroi sled, some of them from rd.' On the evening ot tl remains of Burns were r mseto the Town- Hall, ar A party of the volunteers, selected to perform the railitarv duty in the church-yard, stationed them.elves'in the front of the process.an, with their arms reversed; the main body of the which were placed the hat and sword of their friend and fellow-soldier ; the numerous body while the Fencible regiments of infantry and cavalry lined the streets from the Town-Hall yard, a distance "of 'more than half a mile. Dead March, in Saul : and three volleys frred over his grave, marked the return of Burns to his parent earth ! The spectacle was in a high * The particulars respecting the illness and death of Burns were obligingly furnished by Dr Maxwell, the physician who attended DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. nd won name of Maxwell, was n ite. He has already become an if the same grave with his celebrated years of age) yet mise of prudenc t furniture of his house, remained; and obliga- tions were found for two hundred pounds whom he was united by the ties of blood, and still more by those of esteem and affection. When it is considered, that his expenses in Edin- taking was unsuccessful : that his income from the Excise was for some time as low as fifty, and never rose to above seventy pounds a-year ; nee every offer of friendly assistance riuted poems had procured him gre; Iter offsprings of his pen might ha\ iideuce of sentiment, made a proposi that he should furnish them, once t with an article for their poetical depar * The auihor of SI Buerdon't Well, a pout. ; .d of A Tribute tu the He awry of Barns. ly refusing all recompense to the greater work of .Mr Thomson, which the justice and generosity of that gentlemen was pressing upon him. "■he sense of his poverty, and of the ap- ching distress of his infant family, pre««l .ily on Burns as he lay on the bed of deatti. he alluded to his indigence, at times, with ethiog approaching to his wonted gaiety. What business, "said he to Dr Maxwell, ■ pigeon, not worth plucking. Alas! I i not leathers enough upon me to carry me liar , however, to the r honour continued his full e molumeuts; and Mr Gran am of Fintrn, »g of his illness though ts dangerous nat an offer of his a the means of Hal!..-. r might be the fjitll of Burns, ingrati ude was t ot of the num- - are found of the rtained of Mr am's friendship. vhich de duced u_ to suppress ; his h wards h m, though he f*l' no ^longer the p< wer of xpressing his 'u; "the death of Bu rns, the inhabitants of subscription for the support of his wife and family; and Mr Miller, Mr M'Murdo, Dr Maxwell, and Mr Syme, gentlemen of the ancholy of the forebodings of Burns learlj five f til, and of "a unit that ,i]Jicai,al n-inl) a, well .is strength. BURNS LIFE. is mode of dressing, w xpression of de ep peu-tration and of calm pproaching to melancholy. erfect P ease am nd almost super — Strangers that supposed aching an Ayrshire peasant, rho could make rhymes, and to whom their our, found themselves speed- j overawed by the presence of a man who r it was willingly paic of benevolence. His dark and haughty coun- tenance easily relaxed into a look of good will, of pity, or of tenderness ; and, as the various est melancholy, or of the most sub- and swept him over the precipice on. The tones of his voice happily rectly in his course. The fatal ed with the expression of his fea- character lay in the comparative with the feelings of his mind. When hi- vj.iiion, that superior faculty- ndowments are added a rapid and dictates of the understanding, alo and a happy command of language— to be denominated rational^ v. Li, as well as brilliancy of expression— rent of fortitude, patience, and e able to account for the extraordinary which, by regulating and combi of his conversation— for the sorcery is social parties he seemed to exert is great in the works of man, in science, or in the face of nature. ry was more especially apparent. tions of a poet are not calculated t the governing powers of the mind m, and awoke his happiest feelings ; he powers of his fancy, as well as control, since it gives birth to th which in the company of me sessed. This influence was cal. A Scottish Lady, accu This, indeed, is to represent Burns in h erhearing ; he was jealous of the pro, scorn, jealous to an extreme of the ins if wealth, and prone to avenge, even . sor, the partiality of fortun By nat, ■5 and his failings had their origin in the equally partook of the chills and glows of senti- accusation. His understanding was equal to opinions were singularly candid and just; but, like other men of great and irregular genius, the opinions which he delivered in conversation were often the offspring of temporary feeling, and widely different from the calm decisions" of bis judgment. This was not merely true re- specting the characters of others, but in regard On no subject did he give a more striking — if of the strength of his understanding, than i the c< ned of h self. imagination. Unfortunately the favourite oc- cupations of genius are calculated to increase all its peculiarities ; to nourish that lofty pride, the restrictions of order ; and, by indulgence, when accompanied with the choicest gifts of It is observed by one ■ and explained the systei of a: m r !,t, in^le'to the' ded all his | ■ oii'rpriiiL; of his fancy i •eatly superior to those of men, could possibly ve and be happy in this world " If such a ling really existed, ' ' continues he, ' ' his misery * Smellie— See his Philosophy of Natural DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. objects around him would by no lucuns gi it : obliged to feed ou nourishment too for his frame ; be must Le Lorn only t miserable, and thee, ntinuatiou of his cxis ■would be ultcily ini),. mL).. i dity of objects i-j.d pursuits, the futility of culty by cultivated and r. fined minds. In. jccts and situation, and no man could Lear t< live." lion, as well as 'all e ur other powers, art he speculnt of Mr Smell e are be e dream probably le unded on sad up, •11 nghes PP nd refin ci, ccpi.l pe netrating found lie v.'h f the te poet. ch the i jar here, t f > l T, Le irk :: El "a'r'ai'.dc ? Per Oei 11 itofgen nfonn (be undemanding • . that regul I i.ich, like ill other faculties, is strength" tied by exercise, and on the superior- ity ot which, virtue, happiness, and Lcnour- able lame, are wholly dependent. Hence also the advantage of regular and constant applica- tion, which aids the voluntary power by '.he production of babi lormed in tbe temi 'Ihe man who i land, mav j ursuc his course with confident in almost any ot the various walks of life whie choice or accident shall open to b.m ; and pri Tided he employs the talents he has cultivate! may hope lor such imperfect happii.es>, as such limited success, as are reastnally expec 'Ihe pre-eminence among men, which pn cures personal respect, and whieh terminali in lasting reputation, is seldom or never ol te-eniinent in n idge— the knowledge of the natur cter of man ? On the other hanei f ratiocination is more especially aim of oratory, even by the highest no,,, wl.eili.r ih- I i. not the iiiunidiml'bge- ■ litis should be followed in his ., I,.- .,■,, timivi), ehielly, in'.lee.l, with a i.l, r. lice- to the orntor, but in a way (hat admits of verj gene much with those of the 1. it. An mo 1,J. trakscumdeEphoror.il,: 3 I. I , , in Mo pent prcerrjrfli t tit, ul tan. fiioi in id their Celiimat.ci el aii the sm, [a, hies ot the heart. These else, vat, ens m^hi le extended to other walls of life. He who has the facul- might lead to pre-eminence in ether, and, as far as lespccts himself, perhaps ill happier destina- tions. 'Ihe talents li.ces.sary to the construction of an Iliad, under diflerent discipline and appli- cation, might have led armies to victory, or kuierilcnis to prosperity; toi-l.t have wielded the ihuiiilir of eloquence, or d' enlarged these 1 - •f The reader must not suppose it is contended .iruciiun and practice is necessary to excel ence in ever] one, and lift is loo short to ulmit of one man, bowers* great bis talents, ici|llirili» ibis in all of tin 111. It is el, Iv, assert- il, ll.al Ih, v i.pi .. ugh i .1- BURNS. - Such talents, are, indeed, rare among (be pro- I is of n ■LIFE, them into full e haps, not equally well in each. And, after all, and judgment will supply, e physical qualities should have devoted himself to poetry, and th< he should have acquired a proficiency in metric; Rome produced more instances of single indi- active and speculative life, than occur in men are subdivided. Many of the greatest warriors of antiquity excelled in literature and in oratory. That they had the minds of great are justly appreciated which are necessary to gies of a great body of men, to rouse that enthu- siasm which sustains fatigue, hunger, and the inclemencies of the elements, and which tri- umphs over the fear of death, the most power- The authority of Cicero may be appealed to in favour of the close connection between the poet and the orator. Est enim Jinilimus oratori aid by Quinctilian of Hon nfTh o<^- r 7 urn el or turn dedit, Lib ,>....!;,- Homer s therefore re commended tance. Of language, who are ~ely inf. rior to Homer Shakspeare andM How m reh an acquain tance with them h vailed t who is now the ride nament o°f Vn English ba , need oued, nor nee we point ou : by na l charac ter which ma th c onfidenc For the ersality The iden ity, or a_-t the gr-"at =imilali of the talen ,cu- ; , to excellence oratory, pa mu:.;. and war, v ill be admitte ■ated, while the sciences remain to be studied ind to be extended, and the principles of t of .lready been entioned, to strengthen the self-command ; e studies, more efi'ectually perhaps than has ,en generally understood. If these observations be founded in truth, they may lead to practical consequences of some i consider the possession of poetical talents as deluding the possibility of application to the :verer branches of study, ,g the ] , jr fr,.,m aimn^ ife. It has been common for persons conscious f snch talents, to look with a sort of disdain on other kinds of intellectual excellence, and bsolved from these rules of prudence" by hich humbler minds are restricted. They are io much disposed to abandon themselves to their -ithout regular exertion, or settled purpose. But though men of genius are generally ful, or adventures the most hazardous. Hap- pier to him than idleness, were the condition of the peasant, earning with incessant labour by some, who will be inclined to dispute the knowledge. Ou this occasion I may quote the following observations of Sir William Jones, whose own example will, however, far exceed in weight the authority of his precepts. «« Abul Ok, had so flourishing, a reputation, that several persons of uncommon genius were ambitious of learning the art of poetry from so lars were Feleki and Rhakani, who were no for their Persian compositions. :d mathemat: ;,:il in imagination, a lively wit, an easy and copious his scantj thai i f the sailor, thougl hanging Hi bum These c nof ally by the bio graphy o the poet . Of ast descriptio of men, ew seem oved the usua portion of happiues V..S o the lot of hu inanity, tho,e exc pu.-lr;. a* 'ot'l'i" Y.T pations, or th ii.-a,- in the gr which al the uJuh es of the min id pe ntly employe. Even tas I • nl '' Jlid c iria euce, do ble o pation as ■: - ful exerci e to the f s of body and mind ble Shens is lef ofhisimj rudeuce, of his indol nee, and of h DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. exposed, an ttempt of nlheaca- anquillity ju.'ht lr.'m il,,-"_' melancholy of iudo e which operate magination, and riial impressions chielly employed t There are a great n mees which may be c under the gloomy appre- junds is suspended, by which the lilurated, ideas of hope and of hap- nature clothed with new beantj I — Elysium opens round, frenzj tuovs the lighten'd soul, ine hopes dispel your fleeting care ; May be endured : so may the throbbing head : But such a dim delirium, such a dream Involves you ; such a dastardly despair Unmans your soul, as mada'ning Pentheui When, baited round Cithsron's cruel sides, He saw two suns and double Thebes ascend. Armstrong's Art of Pretervwi iv. 1. 163. Such are the pleasures and the pains of in- sensibility, described by a genuine poet, with a experience could have dictated. There°are, effects are painfully ii . be difficulty of I liquor, 1, by a power- was obliged, ant'lv had re! .choly. The A- ,i.c» in full his native tire had alreadv blazed forth i ■plicity ant , 6"'« «• genuine , eloquence of senttmt e found I " The Poetic genius of my country fouud le, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha — t the Ploua-h; and threw her inspiring mantle DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. r failed to delight and seem the temper ol 'rougT'eLrLe'of ag .Her cultivation of the self. The rapid lightnings of 1 aether they darted the fiery glanc ed the ear with the melody c , the perspicuity of nervou le ardent sallies of enthusiast. a almost at a loss whether to s foible; for though uaturt ' which Sterne has des. ifrequ'en'tly'di^cteda »rers°o e ns e ha 0r ened^ dread of injuring u, ,,l r et, the sage of Zuri Cor being rather dehcient in it. He paid the professed .[,-. ieil 1. t this qui had si tre incapable of appre- the celebrated Dr Johnson a good hater,' — a tempera- ularly adapted him to cher- in favour of our bard, who uort even of the surly Doe- tmn'eT; but the fervour of rtunately tempered by their I am inclined to believ O. of feeling, tha nat..d ]• -ed him prompt t nis sensations of pique, lad discovered the traces it which preceded ti - , of cabin s errors, and his avoiral was a reparatio, native JiarU never forsaking him a m enhanced tenfold towards a generous mini ticable to the efforts of superc'iliousne would have depressed it into humilil 1 suggestions that might have led him in nazes el livpocrisy. It has been observed, that he was far fro se to the incense of flattery, and could r an honest from the wa of It has been ted, by lIlOs detract , tho..-h 111 oily to ■o that nalh th power -k,M ; . t Of I utipalby, the object of culhu.-i- of what in realitj required no foil.' 'IheCol- astic attachment, or ol de-id, d enmity ; for he lei \ s.nurd.ij -\i_hl, l.o.i o 'Shunter, mid the possessed none of that negative insipidity of .Mountain Daisy, besides a number of Inter character, whose love might be regard, -d wiili production!,, where the maturity of his genius indifference, or whoso resentment could he w ill be readily traced, and which will be given considered with contempt, la this it should i tothe public as soon u ibis irunds have collected BURNS. -LIFE. and arranged them, speak :uffl h-utlv Tor them- selves i and had they fallen from a hand mole dignified in the ranks of society than that of a peasant, they had perhaps bestowed as unusual ' ' mbler shade of 1 froi sprung. '" To the obscure scene of Barns 's educatioi and to the laborious, though honourable st tion of rural industry, in which his parenta: enrolled him. almost every inhabitant in ti south of Scotland can give testimony. B only surviving brother, Gilbert Burns, nc guides the ploughshare of his forefathers tall fan V .Or near Wan d of nine yea 5 already pro' ther's talents; conversation, unless where the dead language* and their writers were the subjects ut <:. ; cu,- siou. When I have pressed him to tell me mory had so scon enabled him to «^ u»« he used only to reply with a smile, already knew all the Latin he desired tt thoroughly versed in ; but I really •"' is happy m " The t Mr ided little, if any, £ ■ns had uniforn acknowledged for the fest x table, and towards the fairer and sor and moral, have been directed ; and to these, it must be confessed, he showed himself no stoic His poetical pieces blend with alternate irippim tend J e°r"and"im S :riplio And where is the irsuade us so far to eel-i.rai creon sung beneath his vine ? '* I will not, however, undertake to be the apologist of the irregularities, even of a man of genius, though I believe it is « derstood that genius neser was tree of irregu- larities, as that their absolution maj in a great measure be justly claimed, since it is certain ously glaring, than where they are the attend- ants of mere mediocrity : it is only on the gem 'ust ; the pebble e disturbed t< turns of geniu e wild efferve: The often yield of desires, own' CrU No'°wond , e L r''th < en' if "virtue herself be sometimes lost in the blaze of kindling anima- tion, or that the calm monitions of reason were not found sufficient to fetter an imagination, which scorned the narrow limits and relictions that would chain it to the level of ordinary minds. The child of nature, the child of sen- sibility, unbroke to the refrigerative precepts of philosophy, untaught always to vanquish the lology i , than all the saw thy pulse's maddening plav '"ild send thee Pleasure's deviou: isled by Fancy's meteor ray, rressed far beyond the to myself, on first lese sketches, which st I have been led to mind and or moral, holly fulfilled, if in eithei e been hTlSrVea proudly re jither was formed, I find private animosities are not yet subsided, and envy has not yet done her part. I still trust that honest fame will be affixed to Burns 's reputation, which he will be found to have merited by the candid of his countrymen ; and where a kin- DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. ' Where thi nope repose — The bosom tf his father, aud his Cod.* Gray's Elegy. count of the life and personal subjects of his poems, though some 1 is ii, i:i. d, lo an Englisl >uth. The greater [.art e written in the dialect is obscure, if not uninteli urn, which is difficultly reconciled with our stablished notions of poetical excellence. As the reader, however, becomes better ac- nainted with the poet, the effects of his pecu- uih. His humour, though wild ed. s irresistibly '\" ecfe bjtheu.tr. ness, with whic r so happily unites. Nor is 1 nt i bi» power. The reader, as b perkruih! what he attempts with little appa- ; and impressing ll the offspring of hisf ncy the stamp of his vt dmUuuting. The pable of forming 1 lh j «ec?rc i u m n a 't e an f of uncommon gen us, C 'a e nd r is U willi^ ate more minutely clail iginality. This 1 ist point we shall at 1 urns bad not the advantages of a elass cal ,: .location, or of an> degree of acquail;- the Creek or Rom ongi lal c ess, has appeared iu the history of fe. , some knowledge of lb Fit I does not appear ersant in French ideuce of his hav- e. Willi the English classics he became well intediu the cours e of his life, and ce are observable in hi sMe el hi poetry were formed very early, and the pan .ode which he follow d, in as far as he is to be sought for ts of the poets w h the Scotti h dialect— iu the fhe-V, ;;';• of Scotland. Son parti examination of the poetry of Burns. tudies of the editor in this dirtclion aie would" l'a e been imprudent VorTim (o June this subject at all but for the kind- ness f .Mr Ramsay of Ochte tyre, whose assis- plan... I, that in the thirteenth ceiiiiiiv, ibe language of the two British natici.s, if nl all d, Hi-rent, differed only in dialect, the Caelic in the one, like the Welch and Armoric in the other, being conliticd to the niounlainous dis- tricts.* The English under the Edwards, and BURVS LIFE. * Gl the Scots under Wallace and Brace, spoke thi thi history ascends to a period nearly as remote as in England. Barbour and Blinc Harry, James the First, Dunbar, Eon-las, am LincUa-, , who lived in the fourteenth, bfteemh, and Sixteenth centuries, were coenal with tli. father? of poetry in England ; and in th. EefSI !ach h d ° 1 pei!d, d 7ei At the death of James the Fifth, in 1542, the la.uruage of Scotland v. as in a flourishing throne. It may easily be tongue, as was done by the rev in Italy, he would have left c that language which might hav, James, overthrew all reasonable . x;„ cf..ti„u i this kind. That monarch, seated on the Eng ty, though he himself nev They studied the language of Englai composed in it with precision and el They were however the last of their c for a period of eighty years. To what causes are we to attribute this ex- treme depression among a people compaiatively learned, enterprising, and in-ei.i -us . Shall -we impute it to the t\natiei,m of the cove- .',- restoration to the throne ? Doubt- less these causes operated, but they seem un- equal to account for the effect. In England, similar distractions and oppressions took place, yet poetry flourished there in a remarkable ,ntry- egree. During this period, Cowley, am \ aller, and Dryden sung, and Milton raisec is strain of unparalleled grandeur. To th( 'jnting for the torpor of ScoltisI —the .■not gen the pure English idiom. Theci t the Scottish language l imitated their beauties, in the same manner as they studied the classics of Greece and Home. They,had admirable models of com- position lately presented to them by the larly in the periodical papers published by Steele, Addison, and their associated friends, which circulated widely through Scotland, and diffused every where a taste for purity of style and sentiment, and for critical disquisition. At length, the Scottish writers succeeded in English composition, and a union was formed of the literary talents, as well as of the legisla- tures of the two nations. On this occasion the poets took the lead. While Henry Home, t Dr Wallace, and their learned associates, were only lay-in- in their intellectual stores, - J -idyingto ■ i.-h in., lallet, a .e English tl I the accession of Jan.e Immediately betnr,- tl, gether, made the elements of "knowledge of on the rural have not hith, though less s DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. music, which being b. r ..p. in ihe wilds of Ireland and in Ih' mountains oi Scotland and Wales. The Irish, the Scottish, and the u J from each other, bui the difference ma; be. considered a. in dialect only, and pro- bably produced by Ibe influence of lime, like tbe different dialect! of tbeir common language. If this conjecture be true, the Scottish music must be more immediately of a Highland origin, and the Lowland tune*, though uow of a character somewhat annuel, must hate de- scended from tbe mountains in remote ages. antl] , untj, and ballads composed in their nati Ls of these compositions were such ulcresled the simple inhabitants, and rrrtninn of lime varied probably as ll ion of society varied. During tbe separ id tbe hostility of the two nations, the aud ballads, as far as our imperfect a ts enable us to iodge, were chiefly wa i of Cheviot, and ll Baltic of Harlaic. tranquillity took pi i th< want of real evidence respecting tbe history of our songs," sa>s Rim, ay of Ochtertyre. ■• re- course may be had to conjecture. Oue would be disposed to think, that the most beautilul of tbe Scottish tuues were cljlhed with new words after the union of tbe crowns. The in- habitants of the borders, who hod formerly I hull me sparks of that spirit of chivalry :h they are celebrated by Krois,a.-t, ry towards the fair sex. Tb< liliteratcd, and thii i rural life. In thi. and tranquillity of the Legi.l. babl, on Ih Hanks of the I'ki purralll which chequer pmaie life wei v/h.ch bad forn.eily bad a d.tidrd „, was deeply sguated by ihe civ ■! war * In the Pepv. collection, th .1 the list cent t Srtrac. tf a°"u" "rV.i"l (X-Aferit/r* lo (. II . VOi, ,. a c. of Mr Kam.ay, under .-..'.. nter. into tbi. of church government, that the peasantry of , p the Lowlands enjoyed comparative repose ; and ' p it is since that period that a ereat number of ; si the most admired Scottish son;s have been h bich they are j h ter antiquity. | n )se, that the | t] ecuritv derived from the Revolu- | ii tie Union, produced a favourable b be rustic poetrv of Scotland ; and g ily be doubted.'that the institution sc lools in lollij, bv which a certain p LIFE. I freedom with the sonf j truth cannot, however, 1 Is adapted verses worthy of the iccompanied, worthy indeed of . These verses were perfectly .very rustic, yet justly admired Cum ■rland It Theo ' ired Allan Ramsav. the He was born on the and high mountains that divide Clyd. Annandale, in a small hamlet by the banks of Clyde. The ruins of this hamlet are still the son of a peasant, °and probably received such instruction as his parish-school bestowed, and the poverty of his parents admitted. -f Ramsay made his appearance in Edinburgh, humble cha ■ he was then fourteen or fifteen years of ag • ' h decrees he silion, and ..■quired n"t ce for his social his tal.u.t or the composit .'not' diom : and, cha his profess on for tha t of a bookselle became int nate with many < well as of fashionable char of his time $ Having published a volu me of poems of hi ■ rally received, fa o make a collect on or ancient Sco under the title of the Ec.r- Great, and was afterwards enco rair.d a collection of S songs.^ " From wha sources he pr s Ramsay of Ochtertyre, " w from' trad" uscript, is unc As in the Ei-cr-G'-c-. attempts I ) improve n the originals of his ancient po ms, he pro ably used still e reater * See C impbeU's H story of Poetry i Scot- a \ The fa ther of Mr Ramsay was, it i said, tl-mii..-, uf the Earl of Is. The workn are of a very si character n general. The only sis ho urs of laboL time for re iding. Thev have a common ibrary ani his club of smell wits, who, about 1719' Young, the author of the Night T;-jr(-, prefixed a copy of verses. ' ' Extract of a h Her from Mr Ramsay of Ochtertyre to Ike Editoi spoken by i e peasant, spoke a t ; s true, the English e by this time read liddleof the r 'torn the peer the standards for polite composition. But, as the learned, the gay, and the fair, continued to speak their native dialect, and that with an old enough to have conversed with Mr Spinal", of Leuehat, a scholar, and a man of fashion, it, as the language of om that of Thames Street. Had court and parliament of our own. ' tile two >i = ter kingdoms would differed like (he Castilian and but each would have its own in a single branch, but in the .f literature. associated with the men of wit Sir t_.il: ert Elliot, the first of our lawyers who both spoke and wrote English e.egantly, com- posed, in the character of a love-sick swain, a beautiful song, beginning, My sheep 1 neglected, tress, Miss Forbes, with Ronafd Crawford. t twelve years afterwards, the s and sup- den. In § Beginning, What beauties does Flora dis- g, I luive heard a lilting at :•;•".- ■es-milkine. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. n words to lie hum tune, tcginniu, mi Ihc i»»/i«; vfjitrlunc Uguitiup, v u long before by Mrs Cockburn, a woi of literati of the present . ", though* wl Much did a these ii schools of Edinburgh and Dundee, and s ri at the I oiier.itics of Edinburgh a Ircw 's. It appears that he was at on lined for the Scottish Church ; but ntion, and at Edinburgh entered the nates a separate and higher igher order of So i he was led, impaired I n bi*88dc* Mth " the singing of songs was the great di " of the higher and middle order of the p. Sesm tion. They ha l ib,. l. !.... I lb, tliler Scottish [in. c, ; di, > " ■ r the uid ol the List Englisl strangers to the book ol in o the book el God." In. in ibis general view apparent that Allan Ramsay d as n • •••■in.- the ii viver ol the run l"' country. His collection Ins collection |. mills, the principal ol .S/lr/l/uTl/, bill.- I.i . u 1.1 . 1 ml llllll.l Harry. Burnt was well i villi allot Hi.-..-. He bad ilao before him |.,.,,„s of Fergiuaon iii the Bcotll ib •ii iii-et, « iich base 1 • in |.i. ..In.-. .1 in ,.iir ..mi ol « In.ii il win be ni 1 1 I 111 il polViT to |,|o. in.- Inn ached by the sympathy originating ;euius, and in the forebodings of une, Burns regarded J il and an affectionate admiration. it lie erected a monument, as has mentioned ; and his poems he ha.=, islances, made the subjects of his i account of the Scottish poems mil 'Li,, liiey are chiefly humor- writers who have excelled in humour. Jlut this observation is true only wheu applied to those who have continued to reside m their own posit,, Ihl insiivi- u pure English; and in these circum- ' tsofaneosy explanation. 'Ihe Scottish poets, who h; of Scotland, have Lien at nil limes remarkable no. ,,l some of Hi. in have excelled. It would be easy to show, that the dialect of Scotland Inning become |.ro\ in,-..... id to the in. .i. ;.. 11 we may believe tli.il ill. poem of IVirisds Alii i;/' /Ai (i„i,i w.is written ly Jamas U I iotwiihstandini uljii-i bj .Vr i.Ml.r. Ihe 1 ...lor acknow- nc on this point. Sir Huviil Hairy tuple II,. 1 opinion thai il was written l\ Ins successor nines at- Hul on tin- licviupelinl BURNS — LIFE. Scotland, this accomplished monarch, who had r-ceived an English education under the direction of Henry the Fourth, and who bore model ( d been formed. Christii A.,;: ne was reprinted by Ramsay, nodernized in the orthography, the poem of King James is usually printed in Ramsay's works. The royal bard describes, in the first canto, a rustic dance, and after- the humours of a country wedding. Though a, lent uniform V ; a s ti-.k a g P of the'i'de tity of char. the 5cv 1" gantry c t the two p int f h,.t,.er hree hundred It U an i able dis ady th *ter and man bellished, h ave been foun ptii. - esof p c .lie ,,a t ; L ;cli jriginal poetry, should i.-' ved the n n the m odel, followed tnr hei rus lcbai fcfis Kirk of the Grene, written by Ramsay, though ob- happiest of his productions. Kis chief excel- land, their lives, and opinions. The subject equal to the subject ; and he has shown that it may be happily adapted to pastoral poetry. In his Gentle Sliepherd, the characters are de- finely pourlrayed, and the heart is pleasingly there is an air of reality which the most care- tious, may rank with the happiest productions of Prior or La Fontaine. But when he at- tempts subjects from higher life, and aims al pure English composition, he is feeble and un- interesting, and seldom even reaches mediocri- genius was not o. the highest order; i his learning, which was considerable, i dels, though superior to the English pi them, are however faithful to nature, and often distinguished by a very happy vein of humour. His poems emit:. a Tht Daft J} -, 1'lie King's Birth-day in Edinburgh, Leith Races, and The Halk-u. Fair, will justify this he imitated t ' ' ' A*! ' 1 '' ."'Grene^as Ramsay had done before him. His Address to the Tron-kirk Bell is an exquisite piece of hu- mour, which Burns has scarcely excelled. In is of a tthisp life been prolonged :esoffortuue, hew much higher repu : especially Burns, cter and manners o poetry, as in th e author of Chi imour of Burns is i early.youTh. happier cir- robably have He might bed Sicilian *, The Far- •st of all his mse.:''i. richer vein than jrmsns, he had "frequently ther with a view to kindle at —A superiority of this kind is essential to y species of poetical excellence. In one of if society, by showing that their superiors i of a dialogue betweeu two dogs. He in- iiees this dialogue by an account of the DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. ir, I Ihe humour of Barm a High-bred though be is, be is '• At kirk or market, mill or e Ills breast Weelclad 2« Never wer year: '* That merry day the year begin9. They bar the d..or on fro The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream, And »l...!s o heari-inspiriug steam; "and Panthr of Pr.id. ears la to simple a ' '— " subjects of • « pity ; quently impel, him to in humour, emotiom of tenderness and, where occasion adroit., ha i • carried on to exert the higher powers of imagi- nation. In such instances he leave* the society and of Fergusson. and associate. , himself with the masters of English poetry. whose language he frcquei.t I Of the union of tenderness and humour, ex- amples may be found in Th- Death and Dying i Words of poor SJailie, In The auld Farm-r'. Nao-Ytar't Morning Salutation to kit Mare Haggle, and in many of his other poems. 1 he praise of whisky is a favourite subject with It. .»».., T\. ,l.:_ u- J-J:— •— v r as dogs, and th conversation, heightens the ens the impression of the po in this poem the chief exec eidcred as humour, yet gr played in its coiiipn.- happiest pt i.)l iuii and the deepest insight into Ihe heart.* It is seldom, however, that ibla to portray the character of lug h-lile with •' Nae mercy, then, for aim or steel ; The brawoie, bainie, ploughman cbiel. Brings hard awn-hip, wi' sturdy wheel The strong fore hammer, Till block an 1 studdie ring and reel. The description of the Scotchman is ut bring a Scotsman frae his bill, i in his cheek a Highland gill, i , such is royal George's will, An" there's the foe; las nae thought but how to kill » nobility as well aa gentry are to bo seen, it was concluded lh.it the race-ground had been the Held of Ins observation. This was saga- enough ; but it did not require such in. ; . bj siluati i ( V[ unJ Prayer ti Mr Scotch Repmnlattw in Parliament. BURNS LIFE. Tho' -whiles je moistifj your leather, Till where you sit, on craps o' heather, Freedom and Whisky gang thegither, powers of imagination, instants' may be found in the poem entitled Death and Dr Bornbook, the De'il, one of the happiest of his produc- tions. After reproaching this terrible being with all his "doings" and misdeeds, in the of Scottish superstitions, and rises at times into a high strain of poetry; ' O wad ye tak a thought ai Humour and tenderness are here so happily intermixed, that it is impossible to say which Fergusson wrote a dialogue between the Causeway and the Plainstones * of Edinburgh. This probably suggested to Burns his dialogue between the Old" and New Bridge over the river Ayr. The nature of such subjects requires that they shall be treated humorously, and Fergusson has attempted nothing beyond this. Though the Causeway and the Plainstones talk together, no attempt is made to personify the speakers. A " cadie"f heard the couversa- tion and reported it to the poet. In the dialogue between the Brigs of Ayr, Burns himself is the auditor, and the time and occasion on which it occurred is related with great circumstantiality. The poet, "pressed by care," or " inspired by whim," .had left his bed in the town of Ayr, and wandered out night, to the mouth of the river, where the stillness was interrupted only by the rush- ing sound of the influx of the tide. It was after midnight. The Dungeon-clock i had struck two, and the sound had been repeated by Wallace-Tower. $ All else was hushed. The moon shone brightly, and " clanging sugh" of wings moving through reared, the one on "the Old, the other on the other he rehearses. These genii enter into a which they preside, and afterwards, as is usual between the old and young, compare modern characters and manners with those of past times. They differ, as mav beexpecttd, and taunt and scold each other in broad Scotch. This conversation, which is cer- inly humorous, may be considered as the " all before their sight fairy train appear 'd in order bright ; Ado w n the glittering stream they featly danced; They footed o'er the wafry glass so neat, The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet ; e arts of minstrelsy among them rung, ) " The Genius of the Stream in front appears, His manly leg with garter tangle bound," Next follow a number of other allegorical beings, among whom are the four seasons, Rural Joy, Plenty, Hospitality, and Courage. nstrument of Death ; our Sprites forgat their kind- Tins poem, irregular and imperfect as it is, displays various and powerful talents, and ui.ry i-rie to illustrate the genius of Burns. In being carried beyond his original purpose by lern manners in the town of Ayr. Such a ogue could only be supposed to pass in the ness of night ; and this led our poet into a :ription of a midnight scene, which excited a fairy dance of a nuer me oearas of the moon, by wuicn me rath of the Genii of the Brigs of Ayr is ap- In congruous as the different parts of this oem are, it is not an incongruity that dis- eases ; and we have only to regret that the DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. e DOWI r . of ■ >u[>.-- pendeoea of sentiment, mid generosity ol" heart, ll is to ili.il in his IlJty Fair, ond in loo humour drgenerate* into personal ►alire, and is uol ■ uflici.-ntl> fjjrcled in other en* of Burn* is free from nay objection of this sort lion of manners, but tie it records the spells and charms used on thi \al, DOW, eren in Scotland.fallinginlo nr; but which was once hLmthiI over ike pi part of Britain and Inland.* These charm* are supposed lu afford an insight into futurity, ri ._■■■, llje DM . i, male, in performing - occasion to go out by moonlight ti dip bet shift-sleeve into a stream iroriis Ihe South. It was not necessary fe: Burns to give a description of this stream. Bu it was the chara.t-r of bis anient mind to pou forth not merely what the occasion required but -what it admitted; and the temptation ti •• Whjli a nv;rr a linn the burnie plajs As through the glen ii wimplet : A\ h>l-s round the rock) scaur it stray* VVbyles in a wielit dimplet; ••r'd lo the niehtlv rajs, o understand the Scottish diali i wh ch the reo i ,,..., J ' e»t proof, ■• wel a. the m * tr.umph. of original genius . taken br Mr HaekaBsw. B7tk jmber of the Lounftr, u a poem xcellence. Theopei lag, r.be* hi* wn aula of ...; the l lab edaj. pro- • els, is Irul) m "T^u. 'iVdo use, is an exquis te painting : " There, lanelj. br ike ingle-ckeek, 1 sat and eyed ihe spewing reck, 'Ibal lill'il'wi' hoast-pro>oking sme»k ThatanM An' heard lb. ; ALoui Ik icile to our in succeed*. Coila id dress, unlike those of other spir- 1 beings, are distinctly portrajed. To the iting on her mantle, on which is depicted most striking seenerj, as well as the most • is, of his native country, e exceptions may be made. The mantle of la, like Ihe cup of Thyrsi*,} and ihe shield ■ ith bgures, some of the objects icprescnted upon it are crly admissible, according to the principle* reign. The generous temperament of Burns number of figures origi- e might inch] nail, inlrodi to w'hich he luced, ill, I i,l, ,1 :. own nature and occupations, par- licularly her supem. tendance if bis iufanl gen- ius, and in w Inch she reconciles him lo the cbar- of poetry, ranking in all respects, excepting the h ib. higher pruduc- ncludii.g ' n that ..f a humorous kind, und. i, that already quoted. - i H to decide whether n • :■ p. im, troin the point at which he sets out : — •Mouse whute m if iru. turned up with the plough. '• And trior fAou (Ait— *he solemn said. und the kottj) round my head ; ib.s us it mni , ihe poetn is one ,.t t mil most In',, I,. ,1 of In- piodiieliniis. ll we Did rustling play ; And, like ii passim; thou^ln, she lUd Mini,- ,,t the •• bickering Irutlli- 1 ' of Ibis little In light away." i (,ii is admirable: the In rufous poem* Burn* ba* exhibit*)! Ib* : mind under the deep 1 H ii-itA Mr ploitrh, ll u |o. in ol lb o.l. nor in ( I ol . , l.urns'o'ilen . wk.ck are ■ 1 1 1 . | H ,.,(U». BURNS LIFE. G9 congenial to the temperament of sensibility raXaTins'ta'-ice of this kind, and The Wit ■ Night is of the same description. Th ■ t is highly character ,: '' of the condition on bright in* S "The poe! himself as lying in bed and list, howling. In this situation, he nat his thoughts to the ourie * Catt of Burns. U ' What comes o' thee? vith clouds," casts her dreary light 01 pindow, thoughts of a darker and more ncholy nature crowd upon him. In thii man, and hnds the former light in the bal- " See stern Oppression's iron grip, Sending, like blood-hounds from' the slip, He pursues this train of reflection through a variety of particulars, in the course of which he introduces the following animated apos- trophe : •« O je ! who, sunk in beds of down, ■ 1V1 "not a want but rthat you. selves create, Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate, Whom friends and fortune quite disown ! Ill-satistied keen .Nature's claufrous call, ly fright is perhaps entitled to The Farmer's Ingle of Ker- ly suggested the planof ^this , out-lying. Ourie Cattle, Catt iliou = ;d alf winter. bited under circumstances highly grateful to ■ ing the return of evening. The his comfortable hre-side. The reception hich he and his men-servants receive from le careful house-wife, is pleasingly di the rural events of the day 'Bout kirk and market eke How Jock woo'd Jemii iVnd there how JUarfon. foi Upon the. begin t< bid " Guide ' our Mess John t duced : the rock, and the spindle plays on her " russet witches and ghosts. The poet exclaims, " O inock na this, my friends ! but rather Wi' aye cradled when the grave is the fatigues of the day, stretches himself at length on the settle, a sort of rustic couch, which extends on one side of the lire, and the meet him, and clambering round his with the neighbouring farmers, dutifull positing their little gains with their pa and receiving their father's blessing an Jenny, their eldest daughter, " w DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. scntation of these humble thc worship of tiw which the rural muse ha ably adapted to th ■lion. Like all men t thi i mperament of devo- this instance will •ibilitj of In. bean. nod the ferraui t bis maginatioti.* TU Colter '« Saturdcy N,,AMs ionej, i nd rises at length into ublimity. which mc- dern poetry has lassed. The noble sentiments of patriotism eludes, correspond with ibt n^i of the poem. In no age or ccun the pastoral muses breathed such • lei b is indeed a pastoral on other subject, of . tonuofthe Scuiti ■ try would have am. ply supplied. Su ed by the degree o plcasu it sinks deeply into the heart, and is calculated, far beyond any other burnt llhaU'mioe. >y Hard ! thy generous flame iven to raise thy country's fame, is thy charming numbers came, 'Ihy matchless lax ; "•With'all'thy'o * The reader will recollect that the Cotter t A great number of manuscript poems w« s.-d to him 1)} admirers if Ins genius, from different parts ofBritair, as well as from Ire land and America. Among these was a poeti- cal epistle from jMr Telford of Shrew slur), ol superior merit. It was wiilten in the Dialect ol Scotland (of which country -Mr Telford is a oil! pott himself. Its object is to Pursue, Bt 'I bet beat me northward man i I hi ar the river's rusbini It.n No distant - How with religious awe impress 'd, They open lay the guiltiest And youth oud age n ith fears di-tress'd. All due | The syrulols of eternal rest Devout to share. } How down ill lang withdrawing hill, Suceessne crowds the tailors till, \S bile pure religious COI . Beguiles the way, And gives a cast to voutbful will, To suit the day. How placed along the sacred board, Their hoary pastor's looks adored. His voice with peace ami I Sent from above; And faith, and hope, and Alld bou'udlcss love. O'er this, with warm seraphic glow. Celestial beings, pleased, bow. And, whisperM, hear the holy tow, MM tears: il solemn scene !§ Approaching slow, ruing weeds, thv iproaehing slow, Some much-respected t I l!> lulus lo ; i With b.uvy hearts thej i i Along ihe path ; , A beautiful little monl whi.h ,l ■ BURNS.— LIFE. The light of death. And when they pass th Auii more arouud the i W The kirk-yard trees ar< While o'er them wintry tempests rave, In the cold wind their grey locks waxe. Their brother's body 'mongst the lave Of parent clay. Expressive looks from each declare The griefs within, their bosoms bear, One holy bow devout they share, Then home return, And think o'er all the virtues fair ; aueht on earth so lovely known, n Sabbath morn, and far alone, is guileless soul all naked shown And bless 'd abode. it a heartfelt joy, The parish-school, its curious site, Demand thy care ; Nor pass the ploughman's school at n Without a share. Nor vet the tentv curious lad, Who' o'er the ingle hings his head, And begs o' neighbours' books to read * This alludes to a superstition prevale in Eskdale and Annuudale, that a light pi ^edes in the night every funeral, marking t songs, on the general character fluence of which, some obs ( already been offered. We may hazard a from its admitting the more terrible, as well as ■;;,,. ..,■, ..■, -. ■ ., without exception, pastoral, or rather rural. Such of them as are comic, frequently treat of a rustic courtship, or a country wed'ding ; or they describe the differences of opinion which Perhaps wi' Allan s sangs begin. How Tay and Tweed smooth iVmin; Through flowery Where Shepherd-lads their s«c;il,« Or may be, Burns, thy thrilling pagi May a' the r virtuous thoughts en;« While plaW'ul^ulh and p.aeid age In concert join, To bless the bard, who, gav or sage, Their bosoms warm to latest days, And aje improve. May still each fond attachment glow, May' rugged rocL^tilTdearVgrow! ° = " Wliile all the venal tribes decay, TuLi ::;-, . r. - ne vermin of a day, When winter binds the harden M plai Around each hearth, the hoary swain Shall teach the n s io ; Scot of n ral many may be lover to tbeir r On a decree of interest and reality is given lo the sentiment, by the spot destined lo these happy interviews being particular. zd. The lovers perhaps meet at the Bus\ aboon Traqunir, or on the Banks of EUrick ; the nvinph* are in. roked to wander among the wild's of Sctlin or the woodt of Incermay. Nor is the spot mere. he scenery is often described as iv.-ll ::■ lo rep re* e fancy, r Thus the i * The dialogu n husbands and thei t all lud BlioDtofMrPukartoi muse of Scotland d lighted in such ■ . in h.r ni-i f One or tuo axamplM may illustrate hundred years ago, begins tbu^ : — My heart grew light, I ro 'I he lover, who i, a llighl.n,! :. relate the language he employed villi hi. I.,,*, land maid lo win her Matt, M lo he, I,, ii, with bim lo ill- Highland hills, there to share Ins fi.rlun . - themselves beautiful, lint we f.-el them villi u( plrtura pnesia, is faithfully ob- ie»e rustic bards, who are guided ly impulse of nature and sensibility enced the father of epic poetry, on nple the precept of the Roman' poel i is employed to interest the feelings. lympalbise deeply io any huma «e conceive nothing in the absl to be subdued by the powers of poetry or of eloquence. Tbe bards of a ruder condition of society paint individual object* ; and hence. af poets, whose lea ing overpowers their gi in the Scottish songs, while it coi thut they have originated among ■ p the earlier stages of so.-: of composition appears in songs of a after tbe ancient model, r. as of a beautiful stream, which i e actually seen, and which all at to our imagination. Let us ta mple. It is now a nymph th ir bow she exprt: lowblytbe each morn was I to s Iv swain come o'er the hill ■ skipp'd the burn, and Dew torn, met bim with good will." along ; be approaches nea leaps the brook, and Hies the recollection of these surrounding scenery becon fair mourner, aud she bursl With hi> pipe and my r» n ." Thus the individual spot of this happy bsl t- iew is pointed out, and the nil i| ill l * I list the dramatic form of writing charsc. ocieiy, may bo illustrated by a i : Ion,, r. The form of dialogue is adopled la lie old Scottish ballads, even in nsir.li .... •e» a very .lllv- BURNS LIFE. The Scottish song are of very unequal poet- 110° easily find a pla°e in this species of compo- sition. The alliance of the words it the Scot- of these songs, with the more beautiful parts. the works of man some portion of the durabi ity of the works of nature. If, from our in :iated strain of si le clear s down the vale of Yarrow, or the yellow bruou waves on the Cowden-Knowes. The first attempts of Bur:., in soni-writin: were not very successful. His habitual inat harmony of numbers, arising probably fron formed, were faults likely to appear to mor better adapted by nature for following in si tory of the ballad is shortly this :— The" Can f Rhodes, in the absence of its lord, is attac d by the robber Edom o' Gordon. The la nd wounds Gordon, 'who in his rage orders t astle to be set on tire. That his orders a arried into effect, we learn from the export ation of the lady, who is represented as stan ng on the battlements, and remonstrating on For ae blast o' the westlin wind, To Maw the reek Eras thee. " The circumstantiality of the Scottish ongs, and the dramatic form which pr heir being the descendants and successors of he ancient ballads. In the beautiful m ong of Ma.-y of Castle-Cary, the dra positions the model of the Grecian than he Scottish muse. By study and practice lis earlier songs there is some ruggedness : this gradually disappears in his successive of this kind may be compared, in polished de- eloquence of sen sibility hey sur- s them all of Burns, like idels he fol owed and excelled, are oft udram tic, and ot' rmafnatu re P aYe' ever'y where^oc? te^wi'th he mil m! !";t";; e poets of grea F others admitted lai dscapcs he criptions exotic has painted, an image y. The sin /ie iust'ai "* such^ar^ to be n every ound iu region, es] ecially w atively lie "fou'nd in he valleys, and "oT'the 1 always b' wooded st reams. Such sc '"-->'.> is ireuliar- we adva nee northwards "the™ uniber of 'lh days of s jmmer, indeed, se, as well as ft om the mildness d the summer night utiful. The gr eater ob iqnityor ciate in their songs the expression of passion, with the most beautiful of their scenery, ii. * A lady, of whose genius the editor enter- tains high admiration (Mrs Barbauld), has fallen into an error in this respect. In her prefatory address to the works of Collins, haustible variety, from the Song of Solomon, L.r-.ailiiiigof eas=ia, myrrh, and cinnamon, to sels carry their igh the frosts and snows of n. r less { I notlesspas- not walkTn the midst^f frost and snoww Al- most all the scenes of the Gentle Shepherd are objects, and at the most genial season of the year. Ramsay introduces all his acts with a prefatory description to assure of this. The fault of the climate of Britain is not, that it DIAMOND CABINET LIUR.utV. 'tied of poetry drp 1 by Burns. Th< if bis in which parti Scottish songs, they are iu the fa ; appropriate and interesting. In, (mice, in proof of Ibis might be quoted from ibe Lea Hif, Highland Mary, the SuUier's ILtani, Lofin Water, from that beautiful pastoral, Bosnia Jean, and a great number of others. Oca. 6ionally tbe force of bis genius carries him be- yond the usual boundaries of Scottish song, and the natural objects introduced have more of the character of sublimity. An instanco of this kind is noticed by Mr Syme,* and many others a dashing There seek m Till grief m, Ne'er to w "TeU.t'g behind' th ;, the scene of which is 9 arcbetipes, and rises 10 other in our language, to seek a comparison of ecourse to tbe poetry of Burns has made an important addition to the songs of Scotland. In bis composition!, the poetry equals and sometimes sm music He has enlarged tbe poetical teener) con-. II rated by bis ii mortal vers . The Doon, gar, the Ayr, d the Cluden, trill it future, like I e Yarrow, t te Tweed, and th.-T, y,bocon,ider ■J us classic The ■Tetter part of the songs of Burns were i after lie re he county of Du.uf ie». lufluer csd, perbap s. by habits formed in early life, '",iir."" \\ 1, inpnsed *\ llile hi . t iTOurl banks of tb Nitb. or o • Ii .,- ('"luden". ml ..... Lin luden Abbey ; '" is beautiful s ,.i ry be ba t very happily e filgacis glor « seculi. '""' during ibe sofinest and tee during the stillness and solemnity of the moon- light night. BO species of poetry, the production* of the drama not excepted, so much calculated to influence the morals, as well as lb; of a people, as those popular verses which are associated with the national airs, and wh.ch being learnt in tbe years of infancy, moke a deep impression on the heart before tbe evolu- tion of tbe powers of the understanding. 'Ibe compositions of Burns, of this kind, now pre- sented in a collected form to tbe world, make a most important addition to the popular songs of his nation. Like all bis other suiting-. and to the domestic circle of their infanc) : and to cherish those sensibilities which, under due restriction, form tbe purest happiness of composed some songs on which this praise can- not be bestowed, let us hope that they will speedily be forgotten, la several instances, where Scottish airs were allied to words ob- jectionable in point of delicacy. Burns bss sub- stituted others of a purer character. On such occasions, without changing the subject, he has changed the sentiments. A proof of this BUJ be seen iu the air of JoAn Andersen my Jo, which is now united to words that breathe a strain of conjugal tenderness, that is as highly mural as it is exquisitely affecting. Few circumstances could afford a more striking proof of the strength of Burns 'genius, than tbe general circulation of his poems in England, notwithstanding the dialect iu which the greater part are writteu, and which might be supposed to render them here uncouth or ub- n purer English style. The singular faculty ling in the same poem bu. gery of n sublime and terrilic nature, enabled him to use this variety of dialect on some occa- sions with sir. king ell. c. o' Shanter affords an instance of ti. to situations of tbe most awful and terrib e or the 9a0Uilfa dialect enables him to add two additional notes to the bottom of bis scale. Grant efforts have been made by the inhabi '..nit, of Scotland, of ihe superior ranks, to ap- proximate in their speech to the p. i standard ; and ibis lias made it dillici in tho Scottish dialect, without exciting in them some feelings of disgust, which in Kng. . is not offended, nay, on certain subjects, be ii perhaps pleased with the rustia dialect, as he limy be Willi .rilus. ■ mi in Inhabiting fata t . ind has alteiiiiMcd to BURNS LIFE. es of disgust which we f le of high birth in the dre: h if she-he really young at imes such a dres C'r-,/ rapery ; t her n less adorned : and to these sha trusts for fixing fashion has no sway. If she succeeds, a new association arises. " The dress of the beautiful rustic becomes itself beautiful, and establishes a new fashion for the young and the gay. And when, in after ages, the contemplative o'bserver shall view her picture in the gallery that con- tains the portraits of " ' n the d i of her day, her drapery that of her rivals, from the standard of his taste, and he will give the palm to her who Burns wrote professedly for the peasantry of his country, and by them their native dialect is universally relished. To a numerous class of the natives of Scotland of another descriplion, different point of view. Estranged from their native soil, and spread over foreign lands, the merits and the descriptions on which it is a similar arrangement. One writ einployed.to recall to their minds the interesting force— another in ease; he is supe both, in whom both these qualities pleasing, many iender'reeollections. Literary Of Homer himself, it may be sai men, residing at Edinburgh or Aberdeen, his own Achilles, he surpasses his in mobility as well as strength. The force of Burns lay in the po To the use of the Scottish dialect in one spe- iiturt ; and these will be found to cies of poetry, the composition of songs, the v hijh seem destined to immort taste of the public has been for some time reconciled. The dialect in question excels, as ifusitility had an uncommon rang alive to every species of emotion. of the few poets that can be ment * These observations are excited by sc remarks of respectable correspondents of description alluded to. This calculatioi the number of Scotchmen living out of Si land is not altogether arbitrary, and it is ] bably below the truth. It is, in some degi founded on the proportion between the nun of the sexes in Scotland, as it appears from invaluable Statistics of Sir John Sinclaii cularly, Burns seems to have written his s beginning, Their groves o' sweet myrtle beautiful strain, which, it may be confidel predicted, will be sung with equal or supe interest, on the banks of the Ganges or of Mississippi, as on those of the'Tay or ind exactness of its terms for natural objects ; ind in pastoral or rural songs, it gives a Doric ; mplicitv, which is very generally approved. Neither "does the regret seem well founded nhich some persons of taste have expressed, hat Burns used this dialect in so many other ic life ai his '* humble ec r _- conceive, that this could have been done with equal humour and effect, if he had not adopted their idiom. There are some, indeed, who will think the subject too low for poetry. Per- sons of this sickly taste will find their delica- ■ it seek f. learned gratification in ■' unbridled sibility of s humble a situation of life; bi e difficult to find any other, v •ning his subsistence by daily lab 3 indie; e uglier lergyj genius. The father of epic poetry exhibits one of his heroes as excelling in strength, another in swiftness— to form his perfect warrior, these attributes are combined. Every species illectual superiority admits, perhaps, of to them Scottish peasant with the works of these giants in literature, might appear presumptuous ; vet, it may be asserted that he has displayed over the melancholy story of his life, it is of his mind, it is easy to see, that out of su=h materials have been reared the fairest and the THE DEATH OF BURNS. BY MR ROSCOE. i subjoined all of them b. of Burns, some of them of consider- have made a selection, would have been The Editor, therefore, presents one poem only on Ihis melancholy subject ; a poem which h not before appeared in print. It is from the pen of one who has sympathized deeply in tl fate of Burns, and will not be found unworthy of its author— the Biographer of Lorenzo Medici. Of a person so well known, it is wholly unnecessary for the Editor to speak ; an. if it were necessary, it would not be easy fnr him to find language that would adequately e: press his respect and his affection. ir high thy bleak majestic hills, But ah ! what poet now shall tread Thy airy heights, thv woodland re ; gn, Since he, the sweetest 'bard, is dead, That ever breathed the soothing strain i Thy lonely wa stes and frown ng skies To him wer >- all with ra He heard with jov the tern -- ; Thai waked , , - ' And oft thy w nding dells le Where wild their rathe And with sine brought To thee the summer's ea rli .st bloom. But ah! nofo nd maternal tie And cold the han What though thy vi And he; Yet who i •ms, thy sons excel Da'j-dreamsof >yes would glide et, not by cold neglect depress 'd, With .iaewv arm he turn'd the soil, unk with the" evening sun to rest, The pow'rs of fancy came along, nd srothed his lengthened hours of to: -Ah ! days of bliss, too swiftly fled, When vigorous health from labour sp nd bland contentment smooths the bed And sleep his ready opiate brings ; l-Ic-at the light forms of young^desire Bid brighter phantoms round him an Jet Klatlerj spread ber siewlc snare. And Fame attract bis v.grant g'.anc- Lri uprightly Pleasure too advauce. In. n I'd lir 'i^, unclasp 'd ber rou DIAMOND ( aVBUIBT l.'UBARY. let Desp.ir, with wirard light, i. close tbe yawning gnlf below, er apectred illi and «bap-» of *o< .bow beneath a eheerle.1 abed, ith sorrowing bean and »tr»»miii lent gri»f where droops ber bead lapartjuror-bUi earl, jo,, ; And point tbem from the sparkling bou I ; To more refined s< Ilcvond tbe peasan That wai i tbe sons of polish'd life, his throbbing veins bent liijh hrobblng veins b( ulse of delight. "Tis done, the powerful : vsith bis fate contends. An idiot laugh the welkin rend* r in. degraded lies; Till pniing Heaven the teil extend* That shrouds tbe Poet', ardent eje, Hear high th, b eak majestic bills, Th, .belt lejs proudly spread And, Sntia pom b> thousand nil.. ihy h But never u ore shall poet tread V."'!^'' height (hy woodland reigu GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE ROBERT BURNS. ADVERTISEMENT. It i* impossible to dismiss this Volunv Correspondence of our Bard, willu anxiety us to the reception it may ni« '1 he experiment we are making has a portion of the recent and unpremed fusions of a man of genius been com: the press. Of the following letters of Burns, i craLlc number were transmitted for pul I . few have been printed e w ill easily be believed, that iu a series written w'ltbout the least view to nu! various passages were found unf from different considerations, readily supposed, tho delicacy— the unbridled effusions of panegyric and regard. But though many c I ore printed from originals furnished by the per- sons to whom they were addressed, others are printed from lirst draught., cr sketches, found among the papers of our Bard. Though in ge- neral no man committed his Iboogll respondent, trith Im consideration or elloii than til hut first essays, and wrote out hi* communications in a fairer char- i haps iu more studied language. In the chaos if his manuscripts, some of the original sketches were found; and ns Umm sketches, tl l.iirly to be .. ILe offspring Of hl> mind, where linn.*' Wi . , ■- ■ ■ following lorrr.pondeuce formed d under the arilit.g nearly of sentiment and forms o d, therefore, the ledious- ns, it has been found nc- parts of gTea they have seemed in themselves worthy of a place in this volume, we have not hesitated to insert them, though they may not always cor- respond exactly with the litters transmitted, which have been lost or withheld. Our author appears at one time to have firm- ed an intention of making a coll-, i rut of a it considerable number of ir gly he copied an Kiddle of Glenriddle, Esq. " Among these was the account of his life, addressed to I In imperfect sketches (it do that he had the letters actually sent to hU cor- altered his eipr.ssions. In such instance* his emendations have been adopted; but in truth there are but five of the letters thus selected by the poet, to be fouud iu the present volume, the rest being thought of inf. nor merit, or other- wise until tor the public eye. In printing this volume, the Editor has found i have been very few, and such as may be osed to occur in the careless l -racters, who have not been in ihe trying their compositions to the eortwelioai have never been ex- ■ habitual modes of ej to violate the delicacies of our language, which be wrote in general with great accuracy. Some citlerenee will indeed be found in this respect in his earlier and in his h.t.r compositions: , sud this volume w 11 exhibit the progress of Us. style, as well as the bistort of lis mind. In the Four.: introduced, and some of Ulterior in j | from page I lo p« r I LETTERS, &c. No. I. TO A FEMALE FRIEND. I Verilv believe, my dear E. that the pure genuine' feelings of love, are as rare in the world as the pure genuine principle of virtue and piety. This, I hope, will account for the uncommon style of all my letters to you. By uncommon, I mean, their beinj written in sue!) ough, except you > pleat i have aften thought, that if a well-grounded afi'ection be not really a part of virtue, 'tis turn, thins extremely akin to it. Whenever csit ; , kindles in my breast. It extinguishes are but too apt to infest me. I grasp every creature in the arms of universal benevolence, and equally participate in the pleasures of the happy, and sympathize with the miseries ot tiie look up to the divine Disposer of events, with an eye of gratitude for the blessing which I ivish drudge may go ideas. I would be heartily out of "humour with myself, if I thought I were capable of No. II. TO THE SAME. imongst people of our station of life: I do not neau the persons who proceed in the way of largain, but those whose afi'ection is really Though I be, as you know very well, but a vho are much the afl'air of tan I am, I often think it is owing o lucky chance more than to good management, hat there are not more unhappy marriages han usually are. i than the rest ; there is something, he favourably, perhaps pleasure of seeing you, you may bid me take my own lesson home, and tell me that the pas- sion I have professed for you is perhaps one of those transient flashes I have been describing ; bat I hope my dear E. you will do me the the love I ha're e for yoa IS founded on the sa- consequence, so long as you continue possessed to love you. Believe me, my dear, it is love state happy. People may talk of flames and .1 LIBRARY '-*■ flow Of] uclhing indrcd feeling, of the heart, I only be the foui has always been my opinion, that the married life was July friendship in a more exalted de- It ton will be so good as to grant mj »i»h«, and it should please providence to spare us to I be latest periods of lite, 1 can look forward and see, that eteu then, though bent down worldly circumstances will be indifferent to me, 1 will regard my E. with the tciiderest affection, and for this plain reason, because she I know, were I to speak in such a style I many a girl who thinks herself p. - small share of sense, she would think n rid culoo3 — but the language of the heart is, m dear E., the only courtship I shall ever use I " ,0 "vhen I look over what I have written, am sensible it is vastly different from the ordi iiary style of courtship — but I shall make u npology — I know your good nature will ejciu what your good sense may sec nnios. No. III. TO THE SAME. I safest, but actui dilliculty in ncliiij ion, than when hi a peculiarly unlucky j£% far the eaataat think that it li very ditlieuli tor a person of ordinary capacity to talk of love and rondneaa, which are not felt, and to make n btancy and fidelity, which are never intended lo be performed, .f he be villain enough to practise such detectable couduct : tut to a man whoso heart glowo with the principles of integrity and truth ; anil who >m woman of unliable nenon, uncommon rafina- l) own feel. ■ such a oue, in inch you, my •!■ I ; -lit, COI lain i> Mi.-h a uui mid di.tru.ttul anxli i piactisrd, mill wlu.-li I ..ll yea lh« plan. Hull. a, oaiianl unmanly in the arts of dissimulation and false- hood, that I am surprised they can be Hard by any one in so noble, so generous a passion aa tirtuous love. No, my dear E. I shall ncier endeavour to gain your favour by sixh detest- able practices. If you will be to good and to generous as to aduiit me for your i companion, your bosom friend ti r lb. re is nothing on this side of eternity shall give me greater transport ; but I shall never worthy of a man, and I will add of a Christ. an. '1 here is one tiling, my dear, which I earnest- ly request of you, and it is this; that yoa would soon either put an end lo my hopes by a peremptory refusal, or cure me of my fears It would oblige me much if you would send only add further, lhat if a behaviour regulat- ed (though perhaps but very imperfectly) by the rules of honour and virtue, if a heart de- n a husband ; 1 Lo;>e ;ou u your real friend and su ess; and if in a friend. Or Cud them N . IV. TO THE BANK I ought in good manner* lo have acknowledged the receipt of your letter before this lime, but my heart was so shocked with the con- * ' that I can scarcely yet collect my attempt to describe what I fell on receiving your letter. I read it over and over. thoorhti ao idaf, iguage of refusal, s peremi Taa. kind of happinesi unmanly lo say, be happy ; but s may be met with in others ; but lhat amiable goodness, thai lender feminine softness, that endearing sweetness of djapoaitloti. with all the nrd by an cdue ias fondly flattat 04 say it eter reached a hop*, lb delightful images, an- il brooded over them ; but now I am wretched for Ibe loss of what 1 Nell] had ■ of y ou as he admil- I wait on you, and as I expect to remov >se, will perhaps soon leave this place. I i see you or hear from you soon ; and if :pression should perhaps escape me ra o warm for friendship, I hope you will >n it in, my dear Miss , (pardon No. V. TO MR JOHN MURDOCH, SCHOOLMASTER, STAPLES DJN BUILDINGS; LONDON. DEAR SIB, Lochlee, loth January, V, the many obligations I lie under to your k "Tdonot'doubt'/'sir, but you will wis! know what has been the result of all the p of an indulgent father, and a masterly teacl that bred as I have teen, i has figured pretty well as w LETTERS. pnrts in my compositic stomach, and I scorn - ■ ai -ore ever the idea, of sneaking in -: - ■ my heart 1 i the matter' of books, in< of care agog ; an d if 1 ii ::l vuh r'for ii.; egard to any thing further E ;.';•: =t =L,n~ of the unfortuna much terrify me 111. talent for what cc ^ lil -'a itkd In a hoary :n e Bi : em, that even then— I wot ddle '-;r> hens .,i:s .ii for, though indol so far as an ly delicate constit per ot lazy ; and in many thir :'"";". JeeutVr the sake of the m ne ; , , but one' of the .my to n I, I am very profuse, my ...um... auiuors are of the sentiimm .1 prize nest to the Bible"; Alan of 'the World; Sterne, especially his Sentimental Journey ; Macpherson's Ossian, fyc. These are the cumbrance in their way. -But I dare say I shall conclude with begging you to give Mrs No. VI [The following is taken from the MS. pro: presented by our Bard to Mr Riddel.] Observation*, Suits, Songs, Scraps of Poe- try, <$e. by R. B._aman who had little art in was, however a man of some sense, and a great deal of honesty, and unbounded good-wiil to ike cares and passioi ied by the mnde DIAMOND CABINET! LIBRARY. Basis all the bitter horror, of hi. crime, afler proper purpose of at The form! pear in print. " — Shentlone. en youth is lon s expired, to in input and, th-r-rur, ier, the spontaneous 1« guage of my heart. September. I entirely ajrree with that judicious phihx pher, Mr Smith, in bit excellent Theory of Moral SknUmenU, that remorse is tbe i painful sentiment that can embitter the hu bosom. Any ordinary pilch of fnrliiude bear up tolerably well, under those calamil in the procurement of which we ourselves 1 r, on the worst are those That to our fully or our rulll » ■ BWi . In every other siroamslaoes, lbs mind ii Hul when I., all ill- evil ..i ,„ This sting i. added — "Maine Illy Ibolilfa -elf! Of guilt, i i . l.iw. ihsrs a man hourhts to peace I O, happy I bappi .' enviable man ! O glorious magnanimity of soul I la- in the course of me penence of human life ng else ban a happy pmu ent of constit nmg bun to jt lirlue. For T.ulct i, . self, can be. v. lofcfcri. Let any of the chiracler for re ul-.ril sri it, of not from any fo of opportunity many of lb* es of mankind BS DM escaped, be. was out of th line of such temp... , filial oft.n. ways weigh. w much ej to the world's good opinion. because the I have often courted the acquaintance of hat part of mankind commonly known by the irdinarj phrase of blackguard; sometimes far- haracier ; those who, by thoughtless prodiga- lly or headstrong passions, have been driven » run. Though disgraced by follies, oat, - - 1 have yet found among them, n not a few instances, some of the noblest irtues, magnanimity, s enerosil), aisintere.lej April. it the men of th- world, if ■ ■me here and there such olber out. of.the-way person. Such is Ihe peculiar plea- sure 1 take in Ihe season of winter, more than ihe rati of the year. This, I believe, may be partly owing to my misfortunes giving my impost, ami tlie hoar] waste 1 deep, stretch 'd o'er tbe buried I, id, r uind I There is scared, any e.rlhlf ""jecTgl,« BM ibing which axalia n.e, soma. ■o than to walk in •li plants- ioii, in a oloudj nlolSr-da>| and hear Ibe U Sa s, and a la BURNS LETTERS. I think the whole species of young mi ij be naturally enough divided into tv and classes, which I shall call the grave a. i mervy ; though, by the bye. these terms ( ion, follow the but poverty and oUcurity are 'on!;, evils t„ ium who can sit gravely dov, n life, v reringsofgeniu with all the del and end of hut with tl Is are capable acy of feeling. in life is to cu t Being to »h ightful ; and to maintaia an in- tive conduct towards our fellow-creatures ; nay be fit members for that society of the teach us to expect beyond the grave: I ■ n of p , amusing him erm the poor, indolent devil he has left behind There is a noble sublimity, a heart-meltim? enderness, in some of our ancient ballads" never; i bablj owed a though far inferi .veil ; the last, iin- one who, gkts, yet eyes x afier :e in the world- unfortunate in love ; he too > felt the loss of his little fortune, the l us5 of ;uds, and, worse than all, the loss of the wo- irt, tuned to all the feelings of poe This is all worth quoting in my MSS. and aore than all. R. E. No. VII. TO MB AIKEN. eman to whom the Cotter'i day Night is addressed.] Ayrshire, 17SG. was with Vv'iison, my prii d all o day, is. After I had paid him ail demands, I made im the offer of the second edition, on the azard of being paid out of the Jirst and rea- aper of a thousand copies would coat about eing disappointed of my second 3t having it in my power to show i LIBRARY poem of Thr Brt'r« of Ayr. I would myself as a «i ble, in a very long life, winn, and tender delicacy with whir* - u witli mwlf in my grateful . worldly maxims and views lo settle into selfii habit*. I hare been feeling all the various rotatioi and movements within, respecting the excis There are many things plead strongly again it ; the uncertainty of getting soon into bu.- cess, the consequences of my follies, which may perhaps make it impracticable for me to stay at home ; and besides, I have for some from causes which you pretty well know — the pang of disappointment, the sting of pride, with some wandering slabs of remorse, whicb never fail lo settle on rov vitals like vultures, away by the calls "-''■<:•• " mirth, n ,f the n m the hour of soci madness of an intoxicated criminal under the hands of the executioner. All these reas uri»e me to go abroad : and to all these reas 1 — e only one answer — the feelings o k; d :« »l, e present mood I am I have scale against to my very soul : though sceptical in some points, of our current belief, yet, I think, I have every evidence for tht . a life be- youd the stinted boLrne of our present exis- tence : if so, then how should I, in the pre- sence of that tremendous Ikiug, the Author of existence, how should I meet the reproaches of those who stand to me in the dear relation of children, whom I deserted in the smiling innocency of helpless infancy ? O, thou great unknown Power! thou Almighty God ! who host lighted up reason in my breast, and blessed me with immortality ! 1 lime frequently wan- dered from that order and regular ■ for the perfection of thy works, yet thou hast Bavarian me nor forsaken me ! ■tiling of tin- storm .il mi-chief thick- er my folly-dented head. Should Wanda, my benefactors, be successful for me, perhaps it may not lo tell the. truth, 1 hi.e 1 •li„ In.t complaint, •• the woi lias been kind lo me, lull, uji inning dlitrn ill possess a warm heart and iooffensise man:..-r» (whicb last, by the bye, waa ruber more thin 1 could well boast, ) still, more than ibete pas- sive qualities, there was something to be dour poems, to la; it out in the blocking of a small farm. I am persuaded it would be "" ic of life much mor< JOHN WII1TEF0RD. No. XII. from I rejoice to hear, from tower still higher by t For your comfort, 1 am in great I number of your friends and adm creo.se, and that you have sou. Now, my friend, such rapid su uncommon ; and do you think J anger of suffering by a old of your rural simplicity and pur.lv, like TeUmochus. D] Mentor's aid, in Calypso's isle, ore.en in that ol Cyprus. I bopej/ou have also Minerva with you. I need nut tell \m ' «ii»J-I dimd-nee u.i.l invinci'bl. nd, and exalt and re 1 hope you will nol it the iuiaginati. "•"•■■ '"" < l'" : >- r . '" """" '" r >•»" elegant co.npo.il.on ... vrr-e. All III, ae I good »i,be» for your liinlur No. XIII. TO MR CHALMERS. Edinburgh, 21th Dec 1 IM. MY DEAR rallMl, all men living. I bad 'intended to send' you an entertaining letter ; and bv all the plodding, stupid powers, that in nodding conce.ied ma- — a heavily solemn oath this! — I am, and have been ever since I came to Edinburgh, as unfit to write a letter of humour ai to write a com- mentary on the Revelation*. To make yon some amends for what, before you reach this paragraph, you will have suffer- ed, I inclose you two poems I hare carded and spun since! passed Ulenbuek. One blank in the address to Edinburgh, •< Fair B ,' is the heavenly Miaa Burnet, daughter to Lord Monboddo, at whose house 1 have bad the binalion's of beauty, grace, and goodness, the and have Se wriaen a to Mr BaUenline and' Mr want them. My direction is — Care of Andrew Bruce, merchant, Bridge Street. Ho, XIV. TO THE EARI. OF EGLINTON. tV LORD. Edinburgh, January. 1787. I have but slender pretensions to philoso- phy. I cannot rise to the exalted ideas of a '-.. of the world; but have all those ne- I prejudices which, I believe, glow pecu- ■trong in the breast of a Dimraumii There is senrcely any thing to which I am so ardently than mine, to be distinguished: though. lill very laieli. I looked in. , lide for a ray of light. It is easy, thru, lo -urns how much I was graiified with the coua. enance and approbation of one of my country 's called on me yesterday, on the port ol" your lordship. Your munificence, .... lord, cer. ■-•-■-> deserves my very grateful aekuowledg- enough ..t ... ijaawuu ...ur lords!.. p with n.y thanks; bul .... Lea. I ngralllada, ipaMi uf j r- J — LETTERS, my head— I assure you, madam, I No. XV. TO MRS DUNLOP. MADAM, Edinburgh, January 15, 17S7 moment honoured with, is a deep reproach i< uie foi ungrateful negiect. I will tell you tin real truth, fur I am miserably awkward at ; lib : I wished to have written to Dr Moor before I wrote to you ; but though, every da' : :..:c lr.-.-::; ."...-. J - [■...■' pressed on my thoughts, yet I could nc n.y soul set about it. I know his fame character, and I am one of " the sons of mlly °.r day, ou tbe'part of Lord Egli for two copies of my next edition. The word you object to in the mention I plied for the opinion of some of the Literati d the ii losed, ed a description of Kjle, of which the addi- tioDal stanzas are a part, as it originally stood. ju.-tice to'ii.e merits of the Sari",v,,- of A.".- Comtry, which sooner or later, I shall at least -mpt. aided with all the powers of polite polite books, and polite company— 1< ged forth, to the full glare of learned observation, with all my iinperfectio ward rusticity and cru-e unpolishe e fo» dty of a poet in my ob- scure situation, without any of those advan- tages which are reckoned necessary for that character, at least at this time of dav, has raised a partial tide of public notice, which has fceliiigh certain, nn abilities are inadequate "to perhaps, as far below the mark of truth. Your patronising me, and interesting your- bill any charms to the heart of a bard, compar- ed with the patronage of the descendant of the No. XVI TO DR MOORE. I his works. Those w in such a manner by judges of the lirst charac- rence ; only I am sorry they mostly came loo certainly ha»e altered, were gone to the press. The hope to be admired for ages is, in by far the greater part of those even who are au- thors of repute, an unsubstantial dream. For ^Jrsln Mother* ent phasis from what is common, which may assist originality of thought. Still I know very weil'the novelty of my character has by far the greatest share in the learned and polite notice 1 have lately had ; and in a language where Pope and Churchiil have raised the laugh, and Shenstone and Gray drawn the tear — where Thomson and Beattie have painted the landscape, and Lyltletou and Collins de- scribed the heart, I am not vain enough to hope for distinguished poetic fame. No. XVII. FROM DR MOORE. DIAMOND CABIN FT LIBRARY. plain of my fri » freely m Mr, Danlon for lran.mil from my letters lo her, by a too carelessly written for hope, for (he freedom I use with crrlain ex. . in consideration of my admiration of the poems in general. If I may judge of inn nutbor's disposition from his works, with all the other good qualities of a poet, he h»a not the irritate temper ascribed to that race of men, by one of their own number, whom "and curious felicity of elpre,.i. n. 1 poetical benuli L i,hlv , a; the f , „ E3i. i:h. ■, lb.... sensibility to a d the iudepend gh ihe whole, g ■ urable im res-ion of the t liiv, ma.; egret ihat I di n effect of whi haw 1 i my seeing (he aulhor last when I w ,- longer n Scotland tha been for n m .'n['!.'u m It at the or Edinburgh, ant you pi su Dr Blair, 2!H informed, inter a: self very much for you. I beg to be remem- bered to him : nobody can have a warmer re- gard for that gentleman (ban I have, which, independent of the worth of his character, would be kept olive by (he memory of our common friend, the late Mr George B e. Before I received your letter, I sent inclosed liams, a young poetical lady, which she wrote on reading your Maunlaia-Daiaj ; perhaps it may nol displease you.* I have been (rying (o add to the number of your subscribers^ but I find many of my ac is as follows : len's flaunting flowers dc- 'II..- "Mountain Daisy," ray \ poc( drew from heaven. Ah. like Unit lonely Hower th i shelter of the vale. I in li.hi uulmrrow'd bin . 1. .1.1 ilit I.. I Kl ill. TO DH MOOHE. Edinburgh, \bt)i February, 1787. Pardon my seeming neglect in delaying s. long to acknowledge the honour j M - kind notice of me, January 23d. plojineiit th in following the plough, nor conk boast any thing higher than a distant a* quamlauce »i(h a country clergyman. .Ver. (hiiig to ,-,-k from (he gr.-al, and I do not feal their judgment ; but genius polished by learn- ing, and at its proper point of elevation in thi eye of (he world, this of late I frequently mee heart, that ll ■Ity of my character, and ight altogether men, have borne me to For the honour Mi-s W. has done me. please. Sir, return her in my name, my most grateful (hanks. 1 have more than once piying her in kind, bu( have dency. 1 had never before heard of her : but (he other day I go! her poems, which, for and others (he offspring of the heart, give me a great deal of pleasure. 1 have little preten- sions to critic lore: there are, I think, two characteristic features in her poetry — the un- feUered wild fligh( of nalive genius, and (he querulous, H>mtire tenderness of " time-settled FROM DR MOORE. Clifford Street, tSlh February, ] our letter of the ] unsure, ll is not correctness and a great deal of Kb gave m< irprtsing thai yon improve taste, considering where r is no danger of your admid ng a:., pollen, which might weaken the vigour of vou'r I am glad to perceive thai you disda.n liie .ur own merit as a poet — an affectation which is db> i most ostentation by them who ban the grratest share of self-conceii, and which only adds undeceiving fal< h I lh« nir.il of your poems would bo arraigning the In. J opini I l!" ; s IM foim. r edition, which', 1 Kg Jul will accept as a BURNS LETTERS. small mark of aiy esteem. It is sent by s< to the care of Mr Cree.-h ; and, along w tliese four volumes for yourself, I have a seut my Medical Sketches, in one volume, ; my friend .Airs Dunlop of Dunlop : this j chance to pass soon by Dunlop, to give to hi I am happy to hear that your subscription good fortune that befalls you : for you are a v< youngest ■ngsome of your Uallcice'tn into La partly proceeds, no doubt, from the cement o: Scottish partiality, with which they are al somewhat tinctured. Even jow translator, •who left Scotland too early in "life for recollec- I remain, with great sincerity, TO THE EARL OF GLEXCAIRN. to purchase a profile of joi could I 111'.. U D SO bappy a to procure one with an, th of ali As I will shades, I want iko aterial object fo my grati'ud i «:.;. oha to say to a frie d. -11 y noble patron my generon be lel'acl '• a;;. w me, my lord ship by the honest throe of gratitude, by the generous wish of benevolence, by all the powers and feelings which compose the magnanimous to your lordship ; and what has not in some instances always been the ca=e with me, the weight of the obligation is a pleasing load. I trust, I have a heart as independent as your and I would not be beholden "to favours that would crucify my feelings. Your dignified I would be jealous of the purity of my grateful attachment, where 1 was under the patronage of one of the much favoured sons of fortune. larl,_ itrious in their country ; allow No. XXI. TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN. The honour jour lordship has done me, by (on notice and adv.ee in yours of the 1st instant, shall ever gratefully remember: •'Praise from tby lips 'lis mine with joy t< 1 bey lest can give it who deserve it mot. " Your lordship touches the di liVOU I nothin; Itish S. e to fire Laled.nia, r.-joicing, si;w he. Lloody lion borne hese enthusiastic reveres, a long-visaged, dry, noral looking phantom strides across my tin . vords, " I, 'Wisdom, dwell with prudence. " tic muse in "my wonted way at the plougti-lail Still, my lord, while the drops of lit.- warm m wh:ch 1 boast ni\ bi th, and srratitude to tbos draw forth the swelling tear. Ext. Property inf. nwur of Mr Robert Burns, lo creel and hep up a Headstone in v.etr.ory of Pott Fergusson, 1787. Session-house, tcithin the Kirk of Ca- ncngate, the tuer.ty-second day of Fe- bruary, one thousand seien hundred and eighty-seven years. Which day, the treasurer to the said fund produced a letter from Jlr Robert Burns, t tpjoinl j their mot follows: "To the honourable Bailies of Canongate, Edinbursh. Gentlemen, I am sorry to be told that the remains of Robert Fergusson, the so justly celebrated poet, a man whose talents, for , lie in your church-yard, among the ig- DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. ■ liar over the "narrow house" Fergusson's memory : ■ tribute I i the honour of pajin; i, then, Gentlemen, to pe unalienable properly to h "BOBBBT BURNS. " Thereafter the said managers, in considera- tion of the laudable and disinterested motion of Mr Burns, and the propriety of hU rnju-=t, did, and hereby do, unanimously grant powet . :o the said Robert Burns to erect keep up and preserve the s h of the records of and yet never pulling pen to paper to say — unaccountable at feeble efforts ai rul, e, there is nothing in the it thing called conscience. a yelping cur powers effi- misch.et. he might be of rming of the bu a ;ue-s, his i!dst the I T.'er native cuo- in the very vortex of our nleruiining miscellany, 'I he proM extract is literally as Mr Sprutt I The Intcription on the Stone is as /Mows : 1IKRE LIES BOBBBT FERGUSSON, I . 177*. \ ealpturad marble here, nor pompons lay, Ira nor animal. .1 but ; " To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dj.-t. " By special grant of the Managers to Roll t Burns, who erected this stone, this I ■ is to remain for ever sacred to the memory us Robert Fergusson. " EXTRACT OF o. XXIV. l LETTER FROM - 8th Mi I am truly happy to know you ba>c found a friend iu J his patronage of you does him great honour. He is truly a good man ; bv far the best I ever knew, oi. perhaps, ever shall know, in this world. Bat I must o- t speak all I think of him, le 3 t 1 should be So you have obtained liberty from the ma- been, as Shakspearesays," in the olden-time:" "The poet's fate, is here in emblem shown, It is, I believe, upon poor Butler's tomb that this is written. But how many brothers of Parnassus, as well cs poor Butler and poor Fergussoo, have asked for bread, and been rjl- a pence time absolutely st orks. But then it a worth, at lea^t one-third of el afterwards very ungratefully expunged, n Edinburgh ; and as ray stay will e for eight r'tlfa the Duchess of snug, well-aired bedroom for >ay have the pleasure of seeing jrning cup of lea. But by all II be a matter of some difficulty II, unless vour company is be- beforehand. There is a great icerning your great intimacy are resolved to make bay while the sun shines, and avoid, if possible," the fate of poor Fer- Viurirnrfa pe- cunia primum est, virtus post mtuwi, is a good maxim to thrive by ! you seemed to de>pi»e it while in this country ;* but probably some phi- lo ophet iu Edinburgh has taught you belter BURNS LETTERS. 93 lit I must give up this trifl Aberdeen wit says, adieu ik phun we meet.* „.".,, attend tie' sal character : but steely lort to .here God an fare of others e far gone in reflection, wb 1 nature have om these "con- Nj. XXV. I guess that I that'sum I IntS unds by my au d, so far as I EkKS TO MRS DUNLOP. MADAM, Edinburgh, March 22, 17S7. ery little ■n pride of m >, I had sc ■ >w 1 am by you. myself" 7 The" : Earl of Gl ? me bis 'slri impropriety oi '• Dark as was chaos, Was roll 'd together Athwart the gloom The appellation of my highest pride ; to Scottish story are th my"power, unplagued cess, for which he enough, to make leisu Caledonia ; to sit on , oi had tried his beams a Scottish bard is by far MADAM, Edinburgh, 15(/t J There is an affectation of gratitu dislike. The periods of Johnsc pauses of Sterne may hide a selfish iou. Scottish scenes and themes I could wish to er aim than to have it in with the routine of tusi- rely pi'.jr.mages through the iields of her bam, ; ; " Rude am I in speech, And therefore little can I crace n In speaking for myself—" and to muse by the "lately towers^ vene- so I shall not trouble you with any But these are all Utopian thoughts : I hav< equally tend r. Where II e" udU dual onh suffers bv the consequen leiice, or f ;:■ \! !,:v bo, hilling abi i ll.e nobler virtu s, may h ■ii- an tify 1 he edless *Theabov e extract is frc m« left rof >neof the ablest ot cr.de '.{ F ■ hr. inserted, if hey could h tec The writer i tratesofEdi, burgh had ": ti:'. e:n' -e'r : v c ly only, enjc lie serious bu "g my ploug chief, someti nt. If my mil have prill is of life : bu No. XXVI. TO THE SAMI between Burns and the Kirk Session of the I nongate. Neither at Edinburgh, nor any wh Wednesday. Your orders I shall punctually attend to ; only, by the way, 1 must tell you that I was paid before for Dr Moore's and Miss W. s copies, through the medium of Commissioner Cochrane in this place ; but that No. XXVII. TO DR MOORE. Edinburgh, 23d April, 1787. the books, and sent the one von to Mrs Dunlop. I am ill-skilled j Adam Smith. I IHUAHV. in beating the coveit- of imagination 'or i phors of gratitude. 1 thank jou, sir, l< honour you have douc me; and lo mj hour »ill warmly remember i(. 'lo be li volumes as a mark of the auili < esteem, is a still more supreme gratification. 1 leave Ldmburgh in the course of len dajs many intimacies and friendships here, but lair ni'raid they are all of loo lender a coiistrucuoi to bear carriugc a hundred and lift t miles. Ti tiie rich, the great, the f.tsh.oiiable, the polite, I haie no equivalent to oiler ; and 1 am ulruid my meteor appearance will by no means title me lo a settled correspondence with of jou, who are the permanent lights of g. No. XXVIII. V A letter TO MBS DTJNLOP. EdusottrgA, 30th April, 1787. Your eriti isms, Mi m, I understand , „,.d could huve.wsi.cd lo have pleas- ed you belter, loii are r.gl.t in your guess that 1 am not very amenable lo Co who possessed the adventitious qualities of llaller no created being either in prose or 1 set a6 little by , lords, clergy, cri- tics, Ate. in all these respectivi my hardship. I know "hat 1 may c I ruin the world by and by — illiberal ubuse perhaps contemptuous neglect. lam happy, Madam, that some of tny own favourite pieces are distinguished by your pat ticular approbation, lor my Hieiim, wine lins unfortunately incurred your loyal disple:< urjtet, Edinburgh, W iuburgh i. . -in.. ii. >i. e nbo are truly benefactors patronage, and friendship yon have shown mr, te embarrassment of o ■ situatiou ; drawn forth from the veriest shades of life lo the glare of remark ; and honoured b] Hie notice of those illu-trioiu names of my country, whose works, while Ibey aie applaud'- ed to the end of time, will ever instruct and mend the heart. However the meteor-like novelty of my appearance in the ■ lights of geuiu. "Tuly benefaclon well, that my utmost merit was far unequal to the task of preserving that character when once I have made up my mind, that abuse, or almost even neglect, will not surprise me in my quarters. I ba»e sent jou a proof impression of Beu- go'l work for me, douc on Indian paper, as a iuouj with what he-rt- Nb. xxx. FEOit mi fji_ua. -re, Edinburgh, 4./. ■ I was favoured this forenoon with : r, together with an impression of ■hanks. The success you batvmet not think was beyond jour merits ; and if I have had any small hand iu contributing lo it, it gives me great pleasure. 1 koow no way iu wh eh literary persous, who are advanced in do more service to the world, than bringing form uusiiuwu merit irom obscurity. I was the nrsl person who brought out to the nuiice of the world, the poems ol V by the Fragment* tf Ancient For.'ry which I publishedi and afterwords, by my setting on foot the uodi i and I nJ LisJ - i.ig ibe HWl, W Uisuri; and 1 have slwaw :l.is as a m.iiloru.us acliou ot m , Your situation, as you say, was indeed very singular ; and. in being brought out all at onci Irom the shades of deepest privacy, lo so eat a share of public notice and ota— a ■■lillll. u bad to stand a severe trial. I am happy hi you have stood it so well ; and as far as 1 ve known or heard, though in the midst of in] tempi uiioiis, without reproach lo jour yourself Ibero wnh industry, prudence, and honour. You haw laid the louudaiiou Kr jiisl public esteem. in the uiul.t . I ■ I....I. tl.-.l . ...iir genu,.. Le not 111 too great a haatl I burns — LETr::;: ;. doubt, a gloss of novelty which time wears i As yoa very properly hint yourself, you not to be surprised if, in \our rural retreat, ; do not find yourself surrounded with that gl n ■ U himself to publ c observation, will attacks of illiber which it is alw ys best to overlook He will be incl ned sometimes to c and to disappe ar from public vien per seasons come forth with mor He will not think glected if he b not always prais y, you see, of an d make reflections will, I dare say. r ion your being- j leave town, yo to Durafriesshir ily wish the offers you there ma answer; as I an than all his other writings. But nothing now added is equal to your Vision and Cotter's Saturday Night. In these are united fine ima- gery, natural and pathetic description, with sublimity of language and thought. It is evi- dent that you ulready possess a great variety of guage ; you ought, therefore, to deal more sparingly for the future, in the provincial dia- lect: — why should jou, by us" and the Scottish, whe some larger work than any you h: tempted. I mean, reflect upon without beginning to execute any you have siudied most of the vho under- spend it to the English hould plan )f Mr Miller's Greek and Roman a persuaded jou will not easily find a more belter hearted proprietor to live l Miller. When you return, if ; way, I will be happy to see you concerning your future plans of life. You rningly fan u 'ie22doftt : my house iu tugjic ^uut, »«i ■»- « >.«"» Edinburgh, near the Musselburgh road. W ing you all success and prosperity, I am, v HUGH BLAIR. No. XXXI. FROM DR MOORE. Clifford Street, May 23, 1737- 1 had the p r by Mr ( a receipt; and Lord Eilinl nself, as to give five of them in Some of the poems last edition are beauti: ter Night, the Addre grow Vie Hashes, anc a'.s-ly fouowing ; the _ . By the way, I imagine you - u -impositions, mlarlv the Win- inburgh. Green it for such c ing allu» t.-elf is c! modernhi " that is, the history of France and Gri Britain, from the beginning of Henry t Seventh's reign. I know very well you have am certain you are capable of ind I generally done. make no apology, when you do write, for hav- ing postponed it ; be assured of this, however, that I shall always be happy to hear from you. I think my friend Mr told me that you had some poems in manuscript by you of a satirical and humorous nature (in which, b . the way, I think you very strong,) which your I understand you intend to take a farm, and make the useful and respectable business of au'd clay biggin, Virgil, before you, proved to o the accuracy of Dr Moore'e judg- DIAMOND CABINET LII1RAI1 No. XXXII. FROM MR JOHN" HUTCHINSON. engaged with Mr Douglas of Port Anionic fn three years, at lliirlv pound, tailing a-vear and am happy some' unexpected accidents in tervened that prevented your sailing w ith th hopes your cirnenyou h; country. I, to think of cc lo'l.ear Iroi it all convenient opportuni a copy of the other editioi Invernru, 51 il lime to will is extempore, for I b would allow. It eases an heart a good Ural, as rhyme is the coin with which a poet prys his debts of honour or gratitude. AN hat I owe to the noble family ol Atbole, of the first ki.d, I shall ever proudly Loast ; what 1 owe of lha last, so help me tiod iu mjr hour of need, I bhall never fcrget. Ihe little "angel band ! "—I declare I KSl of ^an. em i T Sll" e T«r 7 for 6 e» , th e l Ena family-piece I saw at Blair ; the u truly uoble Duchess, with her 6inning little jU -i.,»! M> Lord Duke's kind ho arkedly kind. indeed- Mr G.of P_ is of conversation- Sir \N . M_ No. XXXIV. TO MR GILBERT BURNS. EdtiiAurgA, 17/ASept 1787. IT DEAR BROTHER, rived here sale yesterday evening, after here I had the honour of spi ag nearly two dn\s with his Grace and I ••■rough a wild a trv, among clitls'gruv with el gloomy sav.ige glens, .1 went iluun the stream 11 : famous in Scottish music, Uadenoch, &tc. till 1 reached Grant Castle, where 1 spent half a Jay with Sir James Grant and family , and then crossed the country for I . but called by the wav ut Cawdor, the anri.nl li ; there I saw ihe identical ltd in which, tradition UJI, ktas Duncan was murdered : lastly, from I lb* same year H as I can : BURNS LETTERS. weeks. The rest of my stages are reh--arsing; warm as I was froi country, where I had s with the Dnke, Duchess, and family. I am means of JohnRonald, hear farlhi My duty, j also Omcron Cameron, which s« thin": to delight the public in di might U he VariedT'eSended', part of a pastoral comedy. A, mieht have kept Omeron at hoi , 1 . l north, t lirth fc ler.^and m^bro:h-rly cumpii- likely to be snt cessful. — FarewelL No. XXXV. FROM MR R sik, Ochlerlyrc, 22d October, 1787. Twas only yesterday I got Colonel Edmon- stoune's answer, (hat neither the words of Dmcn the bum, Z)jnV,_ nor Dzinty Dav,j, (I Co"'n^r'G." (.':-'i"f..rd! Next tint I meet talents. Inclosed are the inscriptions you requested, TEN IN 176S FOR THE SAL ICTUM AT OCHTER- TYRE. Salubritatis He Palud Mihi meisq Hie, procu sque causa, ii'dam, strepituque, Silvulas int [abo a reTs S ndi, ' Cu Hie, si faxit Deus opt. rr m quodam juventutis amico Sa-pe conqu.escam, sene uperstite, Talete, diuquelstan t Salietam—Grove of Will simplicity and kindness^ . . .A the plot, might be formed from his fan) lyT'or some neighbouring one of rank. It is nan of which he is engaged, of much importan less to call forth the exercise of generos faithfulness, grafted on patriarchal hosp tali iv. To introduce state affairs, would ra se the style above comedy; though a small s pice of them would season the converse of Upon this head I cannot say more that commend the study of the character of E umiEus ENGLISHED. To improve both air ar.d soil, I drain and decorate this plantation of w Hows, Which was lately an unprofitable mo Here far from noise and strife, Now fondlv markins the progress of m New studying the bee, its arts and ma Here, if it please Almighty God, May I often rest in the evening of 1 fe, With some surviving friend of my yo Uh; And life draws near a close, Ye trees and friends, And whatever else is dear, Farewell, and long may ye fiouris ABOVE THE DOOR OF THE HOUSE. WKITTEN IN 1775. "" PropeTaichi roarginem, * ' Avito in agello, Bene \ivere fausteque mori '. ENGLISHED. On the banks of the Teith, In the small but sweet inheritan Of mv fathers. May I and mine live in peace, And die in joyful hope ! These inscriptions, and the translati ns, are in t e hand- v. r: '.v,z of Xr R . This gentleman"; if still alive, wi 1, it is hoped, excuse the liberty taken by the u editor, in enriching the correspond nee of Burns with his excellent letter, and v -ith in- scriptions so classical and so interestin ...I.SET LIDIIAKY. r Pope's Iran 1- aluable drawn. • discovery ; an. reward of ho* rs of ihe pre icnt da;. thought of a plot, and brought the story into form, Dr BUcklook, or Mr H. Mackenzie. "uhout"" I approve of jou /uflL-ient to tiud e: Upon this subject, i ndntirtr. permit me to those bright tnlen's v ..-...:.•.- uniVraio m;- •, id and body, good morals may be recommended in a cum.-.!) , to the heat and inexperience of youth j — and few poets can boast, like Thomson, of never lv',u'lTwi"!''<''"h!<,r 'in'". rl'l'ul'Vr ''rivl'li'lu., supposed to extend the slips and weaknesses of of faith, serious and excellent men have always differed) and taero aro certain eoi One, which may afford scope to men of (a. hjsical heads, but seldom mend Ihe heart or temper. Wh.is ken, it Is '• lefoi is a pity ibi Mi.elly. II, r ..■ , |. •.,„,. „ „|lhe mm- . a In n lu..|.i. ii l.iie ami plain l.iniiliire. t shall In- t'lad lo he II In. in , ( TALE OF OMBBON ie of Ihe ware betwi Isles. Aliunde. Stewart, Earl of Mi ter iu Ibe Jteenth century), and Donald art, Earl of Caithness, had the comm. y marched iulo Loehaber, :o.nmanded by Donald 11 in arm of the sea which intersects that councry. Having lim'lj inlellifenco of Ibeir approach, he insurgents got ell' precipitately totbeoppo- The Earl of Mar escaped in tbc dark, with- out any attendants, and made to h ill j pari of ihe couniry. In the e i liitrtil he came to Ihe bouse of a poor mon, was Otncron Cam- 1 landlord welcomed his guest with the utmost kindness : but, as there was no meat in Ihe I his w.fe he would directly k.ll .Wool Odhar,i 10 feed the siranger. only co" ! " said sh», " Our own a' children's principal support!" More alten- tive, bowever.lo the present call for • lu.-'u're". xC-i '.■.' ."."'t hu'familj! be killed the cow. The best and tenderesl perls were ho. mediately roasted before the lire, end innirich, or Highland soup, prepared lo con- clude their meal The whole family and their U Of U I ul In hearth, sp-i Karl wrapped his plaid • - i rigs be- r'to He down.' "IS ibout him, and slept Ifheki kind's ollieers ; to protect yen. iten," replied ■ning they had a plentiful Ires leparture his Rues! asked 0*1 hIioiu be had enierlained t ' i.e. Is.,1 ' stranger," s TURNS. —LETTERS. Nj. XXXVL FROM ME W , ilhole House, 13lh Septemler, lisappointrnent on being forced to le; 3 great as appeared from jour e 3 his is the best consolation for the gi me'd indi you proposed, before a letter ~ "ope jour which lost me a day's en- (I speak without flattery), ,-ery dispositions and talents likewise in you ; nil off a esource"^. One .f lie :n ants wa r driver t en or p e from on eof hi ut the ed. Pre n '. ' '1 1 ed Me. Y g> dunk will p ct.* They prod uceda erful oi ely ; for he mo r.ing a e Brua e of the 1 _ha,h j'l :rU .!.'. .rain 't ^ u/unr sages we tr^ts. t":V til hi jh fall, p.p, Ui-Ii:: been the Earl's host, and forced bim to fly the country. He came with his wife and children admittance with a confidence which hardly corresponded with his habit and appearance. The porter told him, rudely, his Lordship was at dinner, and must not be disturbed. He be- -. and importunate: at last his name was announced. Upon hearing that it was Omeron Cameron, the Earl started from his poetical stanza, " I was a night in his house, and fared most plentifully ; but naked of clothes was my bed. Omeron from Breugach is an excellent fellow!" He was intra ' into the gTeat hall, and received with the come he deserved. L'pon hearing how hi still in the country a number of Camexous scended of this Highland llumffius. * The humble Petition of Eniar-Wale tee Duke of Alhole. :-. i.iosi d it deny myself the plea! fusion of her gratitude, invited us in. and I, that we might not hurt her de- entered— but, good God, what wrelch- ;ature stood perfectly silent— looked at Miss then to the money, and burst into tears— iss C. joined her, and, with a vehemence of isibility, took out her purse, and emptied it :o the old woman's lap. AVhat a charming Two days after you left us, 1 1 ad the fall of the hermitage, elight. But I think the last Led. TneyappeMtomi lit friends, which many of us are a "When you pay your promised vi 5 tie pleasure t of Bestu Bell their posses: Duchess would giv^y coi . . titer sight of your letter to Dr M. extremely happy to hear from you leisure. Inclose your letter in a ™ dressed to the Duke of Athole, Dnukelc jg it for her. tal friend ')r , I shall be : l iiskaio No. XXXVII just arrived from abroad. I had yoi ut into mj hands : the pleasure 1 n l reading them, has iudud stretch d vou That uioui •g me, how dare fin' faui eat an' sum's begun to dai ak him by thegardie: >a ouy lawland ehiel. It's fair to praise ilk a Free Jock o' Croats lo bonny Tweed, .1 .• '. II I.. III. line, 1„ ilk.l plu.T when Xc.l.-hmell bleed. I Some work of wordic mak, Uul'now my farewell l.k ; - till prayer I do my. ell indite. From yours still, A M No. XXXVDX FROM .MR J. BAMBAY, 10 THB REV W. YOUNG, AT ERsKlNE. poems, 1 dare say, have given you much his works, in which there U a rich vein of intellectual ore. He has beard some of our Highland luimgt or songs played, which delighted him so much that be has made words to one or two of them, which will ren- der these more popular. As he has thought of being in your quarter, I am persuaded you of nature with a sample of those sweet artless uieludies, winch only want to be married I in .Milton's phrase) to congenial words. I w.,h we could conjure up the ghost of Joseph M'D. lo infuse into our bard a portion of his enthu- siasm for those neglected airs, which do not suit the fastidious musicians of il hour. Hut if it be true til looked on as the He ever, is going out of my prov Mae 'irArigit and. if he « words, 1 do not despair of see sung upon the stage, in lb. of music, r taste ; - i! ] am very sorry we are likely lo meet so sel- ooe of the or beat ng up >our c andMylne, ■l.-l. I.llllell..,,,. of hi. Your most obedient buml o Messrs liuug , give him • billet No. XXXIX. BURNS — LETTERS. of Edinburgh. We frequently 1 verses in our Caledonian may believe, that I am nol MR RAMSAY TO DR BLACKLOCK. Ochtertyre, 27th October, 17S7. 1 received yours by Mr Burns, and give you re. He will, I doubt not, let you know what passed between us on the subject of my hints, to which a man of his :tofmyh You may tell Mr Burns, when you see him, that Colonel Edmonstoune told me t'other day, that his cousin, Colonel George Crawford, was ao poet, but a great singer of songs ; but that his eldest brother Robert (by a former mar- riage) had a great turn that way, having writ- ::;u [ii,- v,.rj= .■■ r ..-i; .' - _ .-. : Ftaeeddde. That the Mary to whom it was addressed was Mary Stewart of the Castlemilk family, afterwards wife of Mr Johu Relches. The Colonel never saw Robert Crawford, He was a pretty young man, and had lived long in France. Lady Ankerville is his niece, and ■ - effusions But I have hardly room to offer my best compliments to Mrs Blacklock ; and I am, Dear Doctor, Your most obedient humble servant, RAMSAY. FROM MB JOHN MURDOCH. London, 28th October, 1787. my friend.Mr Brown, is going from this place :o your neighbourhood, I embrace the oppor- - , a which we are he re engaged, that we seldom th thing, th t is absent. But with me ; for I c ften think of you, ,i«j 'ii'- ie, and Russel, and an umfathomed depth, a pose) at a lthough you and they are (as I sup- considerable distance. I Hatter my- self, how ever, with the pie you and shall meet some : Scotk nd or England. If ever vou come hither, j u will have the sa tisfaction "of seeing jour poems relished bv t he Caledonians in ^cndoa, full as much as it you were the author, till a few days ago, whei I made a visit tu Mrs Hill. l)r M'Comb's eldes that she was informed of it by a letter from hei sL-ter in Edinburgh, with whom you had beet in company when in that capital. Pray let me know if you have any intentioi of visiting this huge, overgrown metropolis : It would afford matter for a large poem. Hen your vein in the study of mankind, perhaps ti a greater degree than in an>- city u: ~c .l,„ -i„k~ . c — ,u„ :„l.„i.;.„...^ ~c T — A — „ Present my respectful c Binds from your earliest infancy ! May you :-'. I - .' .:■■■': :■-■■'•■..-■. ;.i .11 only add, that it is one of more than that of any person :1 JOHN MURDOCH. No. XLI. FROM MR Gordon Castle, 31rf October, 1787. not sensible of your fault as well mont at least ; and as for Dick him nought but Stra'bogis cc-io'i..':.: the production of Di to a Mrs M'Pherson io sings Morag and all other great perfection. I have re- I IB1NE1 J.Ii HAUV. hand safely, and, if s coier, il will likewise vouie „„, , long as ibe Duke is in tins country. I am, Sir, jour* lineerdj. No. XL 1 1. FROM THE REV. JOHN SKINM R. BIB, L'mtharl, Kovcmhtr \Uk, 17S7. mark Oclober 25lh, came lo mj hand only this day; and, Co testify my punciu in;, to mi Your acknowledgment o niv poo but just encomiums on your sur us, and your opinion of my rhy ns, ore both, I think, by far too 1 erence between our two tracts ol id the ways ot life is entirely in laiour, ^•ra^ESrssHL 1 proves and nssi-ls'ii ; and thnncli. these meet, there may sometimes be ground for approbation, yet where taste appears single, hi acquisition, 1 will always sustain the jus- tice ol its prior claim to applause. A small I nun childhood, .specially in (lie old Scottish my fondue-, lor l'.m.-'V l.i'i: o' Ihe Grviie, "urn "into Vat i'n" icrs.V Hk"i ii'as\'ou"g,'l dabbled a good deal in these things ; but, on petting the black gown, 1 gave it pretty much over, till nil daughters grew up, who, being all good singer-, pl.igued me lor words to some there ia nothing to be found in • eristic, or unbecoming the would always wish lo see resp and you, perhap., expect. My daughters, who were mi only inleliigenci ■ . lost thai t.i I : im mi own pen, which I n.i: l.t giie you, if worth tin while. I to the old Scutch tune of Dum- i. It *u iquw .-.a out of me bj ■ I lolhel | i.i hood, to 'ac- commodate a new Highland reel for the .Mar- If this last answer jour purpose, you may Skinner, writer in Edinburgh, who, I Ul.evr, can pne the music too. heard said to be done by the Call I.e. 'dee, and which hit my lute much : " There was a wee wifeikic wu coming frae Had got a little drapikie, which bred her It took upo' ibe wifie'f heart, and And, quo' the wee wifeikie, I wish 1 biuna I have heard of another new composition, by a young ploughman of my acquaintance, that I am vastly pleased with, to the tune of The humouri if Glen, which 1 fear won't do, as the in band, and which 1 wish all success lo. You have only lo noiify your mind, and what you want of the above shall be sent Meantime, while you are thus publicly, I may say, employed, do not shealh your owu have seen of yours already, I am inclined lo hope for much pood. One les-on of virtue and morality, delivered in your amusing style, and ,i - would UoVrom such as n.e, who shall be being one of the niany, what comes will be'ad- mircd. Admiration will produce Kf regard will leave an impression, especially when example goes along. Now binna saving I'm ill bred, I : i my troth, I'll not be glad; - And si- Mnun aye be barland in - And sae maul. I. Wishing you from my poet pen, No, \LI1I. FROM Mils j K 1 CMfc. 30/ \ \ . bo| •• you will do me ll. | .Mis ttuss ol Kilratoek, N'ailnthicc. BURNS.— LETTERS. punctual performance of your parting promise, (hat has made me so long in acknowledging it, but merely the difficulty I had in getting the To her I am indebted fc notes. They are clothe, breathe, *nd icords that laturallyofasnper: is and resumed its functions, I i this mania of yours inightpor- boding ideas had the wide stretch le, and important in their cou- jrred to my fancy. The down- ave, or the crushing of the cork il coronet to Lord George G I of Glen a gentleman c me by the That the old castle of K — satisfaction. I am even va Addiso^ ; fla at er a.'5 raTe'l that "frie'nc!ship will mail has occupies "in both our ns, with a goodness like that benevolent be- ;, whose image he so richly bears. He is a anger proof of the immortality of the soul, and like his can never die. Let the worship- il squire, H. L. or the reverend -Mass J. -M. . > into their primitive nothing. At best they are but ill-digested lumps of chaos, only one of i strongly tinged with bituminou, particles and sulphureous effluvia. But my noble patron, No. XLV. TO MRS DUXLOP. ieofu = ; y° n ried .Mr Burns from us Farewell, sir. I can o to the estee by your merits and genius, but this I give, as lor i would not Cake in anj poor, ignorant she did, with all my heart— being sincerely wretch, bailing out. Lately I was a six- yours, penny private; and, God knows, a miserable E. R. soldier enough ; now I march to the campaign, DEAR SIR, Edinburgh, 1787. ! will be, I suppose, about the middl I suppose the devil is so elated with his success week, Ilea*e Edinburgh, and soon al with you, that he is determined by a coup de pay my grateful duty at Dunlop-Hou main to complete his purposes on' you all at | setf they were v< well: ce:up..r : ;aidtomy- DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, No. \L\I. /l LKTTER. TO THE SAME. Edinburgh, ISth February, Some things in your lata letters, hurl mi that you toy them, but that you mitlu Religion, uiy honoured Madam, has uc been ail my life my chief dependence, b dearest enjoyment, I have indeed been th< less victim of wayward follies; but a have ever been " more fool than knave mathematician without religion, U a ble character ; an irreligious poet, is u >a describes him ; and though I of it myself, I cannot endure it in others. You, my honoured friend, who cannot appear in any light, but you are sure of being respec- table — you can afford to pass by an occasion to displ.iy your v.it, because you may depend for you know you can rely on the gratitude of man] and the esleem of all ; but Ood help us who are wits or witlings by profe sion, if we stand not for fum.- lliere, we sink unsupported ! 1 am highly Haltered by the news you tell me of Coila.* 1 may »ay to the fuir painter who lich honour, a» I)r tfeattie says to Ross the poet, of bis Muse Sco'.ia, from which, . I took the idea of Coila : (Tia a in tne Scuts dialect, which perhaps you bu.c never scon :) " Ye shake your bead, but o' mj . , 1 ibe lien wi' I urfs and Bombazed . No. XLMU. : Liolloway and Ayrshire, it being Sunday, 1 uroed my thoughts to psalms, and bymns, and ipiriinal songs ; and your favourite air. Captain J'Kcan, coming at length in my bead, 1 tried hese words to it. You will tee that the fiat part of as I ha v.;i,> tolerably pi e only ask tch of the tune, I Isara ii ey suit the measure of the I am so harass* about thi farming wench that ever pic of business. 1 thai d with care and anxiety project of mine, that my ked cinders, or followed a trouble j on with a longer epittle perhaps w th some queries N . XLLX. FHOM MR ROBERT CLEGUORN. Saughton 3IMs, 27(A April, I7BB. MV I>EAR BROTHER FARMER, was favoured with your very kind letter of the 1st ult. and consider myself greatly obliged to on, for your attention in sending me ihe snag > my favourite air, Captain O'Kean. The lords delight me much ; ihey fit the tune to a 9 no objeclio ; and if you have <\ by may nol l sing in if her greatgreal.greal grandson ?f ong, as it is afterwords finish - THE CHEVALIERS LAMENT. e small birds rejoice in Ihe green leaves re- e murmuring streamlet winds clear thro The hawtl dale altered con slips i the dews of tl bedeck the grit lair. While ihe a give pleasure tigering momenli are numbered b gaily springing, nor birds sweet he isd bosom ol | Any skill I have in ton Firmer Attention is a pood BURNS.— LETTERS. business yon ] Dryden, anc ROBERT CLEGHORN. No. LI. FROM THE REV. JOHN SKINNER. S.B 5IR, Linshart, 2SUi April, 1788. No. L. TO MRS DUNLOP. ie great eally nut guilty- As I ,.ce urine ie„ 1 niu-i and at any ,rt for a p s in a ploughman of twenty years of a! farmer grandfather's tireside, though now, 1 hich him down from the little emii she has lately helped him up. For this reason, I am at present attending is only mitigated by be mberless apertures in th anday, and part of Toes t of bed, with all the mi t CHARMING NANCY. ig sifted through was on Sunday', lay unable to stir You see, madam, the truth of the French semolaltU ; your last was so full of expostula- tion, and was something so like the language of an offended friend, that I began to tremble ful pleasure set down as one of the gr enjoyments of my future life. Your books have delighted me; Virgil, The deed that Tune — " Humours of Glen- " >' Nelly, And some call sweet Susie the cause of their Some love to be jolly, some love melancholy, And some love to sing of the Humours of Glen. But my only fancy, is my pretty Nancy, _ Inciting my pa.-slon, I II ,-trive to be plain, I'll ask no more treasure, I'll seek no more pleasure But thee, my dear Nancy, gin thou wert my Her pleasant behaviour is free from all stain ; "herefore, my sweet jewel, O do not prove Consent, my dear Nancy, and come be my But 'tis not my sufferings thus wretched, for- My brave gall rain I mourn ; She's blooming in feature, she's handsom ftfj charming dear Nancy, O wert thou DIAMOND CABINET LIBRAHV. You will • Ikshank, irlu Her bright eyes arc sparkling, I Her yellow locks shining in beauty .My charming, mi sin ? I he whole of bet face is with mail ■ lie's well shaped and »! Mj charming, sweet > icy, O w my dear from the cold, snow, and to my deary, I'll keep her oy< cry, ing, sweet Nancy, gin thou wen tofurnishthydw.il t,g, •. 'Mai thy life to sustain j n thee, Nancy, when thou ui my le affection the constant direction llio' youlh will lasting, My charming Nancy, gin thou wen if my Nancy should alter her fancy. THE OLD MAN'S SONG. Tunc — " Dumbarton'* Drums. ' Bv tiih Reverend J. Skinner. I'! why shoiihl old iirc so much wound us, C Then is nothing in *i all to confound us, l For how happ) now am I, H'ith my old wile silting by. W« began in the world wi' mi. > And we've jogg'd on, and tuil'd for the a thing, ii ; - we had, And our thauklul h . Whan w. got Ibl bit meat and the eluill i ol I'iii;, dabbler in Latin tat I won is judgmi v r « I ''■•'■'•. . UJ I bate likewise ,t hi . of CAnsl'j A'trto' (Ac id at Aterdeen tome years ego; the other Datracficmycmachia II rertibut cum additomratii, given in lately to know Heria non temper dclrehmt, non jcca temper. Semper dtUctant term mixta jxru. I hare hut room to repeat complimeuu and Sir, your bumble servant, Jo UK BKD.NEH. No. LI I. E880B DL'CALD STEWART. SIR, Uaurhline, 3d M I inclose yon one or two more of my baga- telles. If the fervent wishes of honest gratitude have any influence with that great, unknown Being, who frames the chain of causes and rperirj and happiness will alien] >our visit 10 ibe ( oniineut, aud return you sole icrever I am, allow me, sir, to claim it as ivilege, to acquaint you with my progress with truth, that, next to my liitle raise, aud the having, it in my power to make l.fe And these, I am ce .More desirable by far. Than a pock full of pour yellow sleenies, O. seen many wonder and rarity, O, Of changes that almost are yearly, O," Ltnong rich folk, op Who now live but HriDDlj, ii why should people brag of prosperity , U raitened life we see is no rarity, O ; " And our living been but scant, we ii. m Iran reduced to need charity, ' .i Rood commendation, I ."d in hand, 1 wi», ■ r boUM ilia" this, rot the next generation, O. .i.l old age so much woiiu, Hot i ' i. comfortable to tbo dear to me, I sha nance, your patro BURNS. - id consequence of ( splendid c le, where the planks that i the gay table sparkled TO MRS DUXLOP. MADAM, * Mauchlitxe, ith May, 17S3. Dry den's Virgil has delighted me. I do not . know whether the critics will agree with me, ; but the Georsics are to me by far the best of Virgil. It is" indeed a species of writing en- poney, drawn up by the side of a thorough-bred ' hunter, to start for the plate. I own 1 am dis- i appointed in the Mneid. Faultless correctness | critic; but'to that awful character I have not j the most distant pretensions. I do not know i ;c of any k withstanding their general stupidity and ras- cality, did some of the poor devils the honour o commend them. But light be the turf upon lis breast, who taught " Reverence thyself. " No. LV. TO THE SAME. lny pas! e YVr i dently copied, but by nc of this' owing to the translators; Ir, i\o:n every thing I have seen of Dryden, I think 1."., in genius and fluency of language, Pope's master. I have not perused Tasso enough to scious my criticisms must be very inaccurate, and imperfect, as there I have ever feit and la- No. LIV. TO THE SAME. jAdam, 27th May, V ave been torturing my philosophy to n nance, that ■• here I had no continu- ing city ; " and but for the consolation of a few There are few circumstances relating to the opulent bestow on their trifling family affairs, compared with the very same things on the contracted scale of a cottage. Last afternoon I Ellisland, 13th June, 178S. " Where'er I roam, whatever realms I see. Mi hear-, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee ; And drags at each remove a lengthen 'd eh iin.' Gddimith. This is the second day, my honoured friend, that I have been on my farm. A solitary in- mate of an old, smoky spenee ; far from every object I love, or by whom I am loved ; nor any n the hour of care, consequently the dreary ob- ects seem larger than the life. Extreme sen, iibilitj, irritated and prrjudiced on the gloomy iide by a series of misfortunes and disappoint- oul is laying in her cargo of ideas for (he royage oflife, is, I believe, the principal cause )f this unhappy frame of mind. lo purchase a shelter ; • DIAMOND CABIN! T LIBRARY. o digest tbose - i bapp..., > sport- fararr .pbs witl II great II Tbc most placid good-natare and sweet new art very well til of disposition ; a warm bean, gratefully devoted pood thing ; but when thrown al a man in a and sprightly cheerfulness, set oft' to the best to mention the irreparable loss of the egg.' furore: lbe,r 1 think, in a woman, may make wish also to be a partaker; not to digest bis ie read spleen, for that he laughs off, lut It d A'iic lust night's wine at the last £e!d-dav of the nor bine danced in a brighter a;- Crocballan corps, t 1 a penny pay-wedding. Among our common friends J must no- f.,r pet one of the dearest of them, Cunningham. you can help him to any thing that will make TO MR P. HILL, bim a little easier on that score, n »ill be very I say nutbing- at all to jour m.d present a coutented happy man, that I know not wl — you have so long and of.en been of impor- can annoy bim, except perhaps he may not bi taut service lo me, and I suppose you mean lo pot the belter of a parcel of modest aneedo go jn cui.l'i' : I shall not which a certain poet gave him one night be able to lift up my face before you. In the supper, the last lime said poet was in town, meantime, as Sir Roger de Coverlr, because _ Though I have mentioned so many men it happened to be a cold day in which he made law, I shall hare nothing to do with them p; his will, ordered his servants great coats for fessedly- the Faculty are beyond my prescr mourning, so, because I hare been this week lion. As to their ci'mlr, that is another thin, plagued with an indigestion, I ha%e sent w.u (Jed knows they have much to digest ! by the carrier a fine oid ewe-milk cheese. " I The clergy I para by; their profundity and nil. It besets i . I cessful kna sight of Ml L pars by ; their profundity of their liberality of sentiment ; ueir loiai want of pride, and their detestation vrious, n» e of self-important the hand, the reeling spoils: my dinner; the whom I bare the honour to call friend, the proud tnuu's wine so offends mj palate that it Laird of Crjigii.irrcx.il ; but I baye spoken to hcred, pert coxcomb, is so disgustful nostril that my stomach turns. It BTet you have any of these disagreeable sensations, let me prescribe for you patience and a bit of my cheese. I know that you are no niggard of your good things anions j our friends, of the first abilities ..: : mind, as well as one of the best hearts and keenest wit! lb .1 1 b smarting at the pinch of distressful cireiim. ishi.keli'o broyyn stout, and superadd Oporto, yi'ii .. C h, the tu only broil., i . i the worthiest fellows thai ever any man called by the name of friend, if a Ian Cheese would help lo rid bun ot nai of hi, milk cheese ou the table, for the benefit of the Dumfriesshire whigs, lo enable them lo digest the Duke it ', Ulieal oou- 1 have just this moment an opportunity of a private hand to Iiuinburgh, as perhaps v..u would not digest double postage. V. 1 MI. TO MRS Dl M.I'. MiMhline. id .(ajusl, I iinssrd'napkin. N a thrrr, but 1 ■ -.11 nig at a po, I ..mi .i\ milr. I it ■>] .it. a burns X.ETT2:;;, n Nithsdale, for I irrows of the'heart," is a kind of ■s the bosom-chords of the author. Instead ol a for the sake :ighbourhood. They i that country. Sprung from night, i Fan-not cli Wake the bull Those that would the bloom devo But, thy u AVelcome - Follies pas Wake their :ofin ind, Reverence with lowly heart Him whose wondrous work thou art ; Keep his goodness still ia view, Thy trust and thy example too. Quod the Eeadesman of Nith-side. 1 hills of New Cum- hedgentlem hopes depend, Wr Graha not only of this country, l_. _ . it. of this age. The following are just the first , proverb 'd, wisdom's bard-wrui s Let prudence number o'er each sturdy son iii» n and who give by rule' ; Instinct's a brute and sentiment a fool ! We own they're prudent, but who fetl 3 tU<\ ■-. good? No. LVIII. TO THE SAWE. Mauchline, 10th August, 17S Yours of the 24th June is before me. I found it, as well as another valued friend — my wife, waiting to welcome me to Ayrshire : Imetbolh When I write you, Wadam, I do not sit down to answer every paragraph of yours, by echoing every sentiment 1 .; liie faithful corn- answering a speech from the best of kings ! I express myself in the fulness of my heart, and guilty of neglecting some of your odd All r very o our epistles for several months have cost me othing, except a swelling throb of gratitude, Wrs Burns, Wadam, is the identical woman When she first found herself « as women wish to be who love their lords;" as I loved her nearly to distraction, we took steps for a pri- vate marriage. Her parents got the hint ; and not only forbade me her company and their house, but on my rumoured West Indian voy- age, got a warrant to put me in jail, 'till I security in my about-to-be paternal usual consequences began to betray "her ; and as I was at that time laid up a cripple in Edin- doors, and I wrote to a friend to shelter hei-, till my return, when oar marriage was declar- ed. Her happiness or misery was in m,, DIAMOND i \JH\l I ,-in.k, ami who could I got a fern futourite ». expen . , baps apish affectation, with all the other blessed boarding-school ac- quirements, which (jxtrdonncz mot, madame] ure sometimes to bo found among females of the upper ranks, but almost universally pel vade the misses of the would-be-gentry. result of a ins; health, plac No. LIX. TO THE SAME. " Why droops my heart with fancied woes Why sinks iny soul beneath each wintry sky f " My increasing cares in tliis, u country-gloomy conjectures m the dork vista of Inlurily— c fiuu^ii.',, i.f iny o»n inability foi the struggle of the world— my broadened science. Pardon me, ye, my ai 1 • I lu the coon* of etrna 1 Johnscn'i Mutical Mutrum, a coll- Scottish songs with the music, was talked of. We got a song on the harpsichord, beg'.n- winds around her blowiog. " The a r was much admired : the lady or the " -Mine, madam— they are indeed i verses:" she took not the smallest notice of them I The old Scottish proverb says, well, " king's caff is better than ither folk's corn." I was going to make a New Testament quota- After all that has been said on the other side of the question, man is by no means a happy creature. 1 do not speak of the select- ed few, favoured by partial heaven, »bo,e souls ore tuned to gladness amid riches and honours, and prudence and wisdom — I speak of the neglected many, whose nerves, whose sinews, whose days are sold to the minions of If I thought you had never seen it, I wouKl transcribe for you a stanza of an old Scottish ballad, called Tiu L>/e and A& of ilex, te- giuning thus, " 'Twas in the sixteenth hunder year Frae Christ was born, that bou c ! i A* writings girlish year. ; the good old man, for such he was, was long blind ere he died, during which time, 1. mother would sing the simple old song of XVw L'Ua..dA. . It is this was ot thinking— it is those me- lancholy truths, that make religion so precious to the poor, miserable children of men— If it :„ ».. >ii,ni.m .*:*r,ng only in the heated i earth s My i I indulge these reflections, 'till my hum- In. uld 1. rin, i.t into the most acrid chagrin, ...... would con hnve sat down to i i , iiij thai the its of my heart o cold philosophizing* the lie. ions, 'till my hum- '• Who looks for the heart weaned from earth ; (he soul affianced to her Ciod ; i deuce filed with heaven; the pious supplica- tion and devout thanksgiving, constant as the I ha thinks to meet with these in the court, the palace, in the -hire of public life ? No: to find lll.nl I was yesterday ut Mr ' my mind . i. i are, dear madam, you are now wore il,:,n pleased with lhaamgUol my letters. I I . BURNS — LETTERS. No. LX. TO R. GRAHAM OF FDiTRY, ESQ. When I had the honour of being introduced to you at Athole-house, I did not think so soon of asking a favour of you. When Lear, in Shakspeare, asks old Kent, -why he wished now solicit your patronage. You know, 1 dare say, of an application I lately made to your Board to be admitted an officer of excise. with a request for an order for in-.. . In this affair, if I succeed, I am afraid I shall but too much need a patronizing friend. Pro- priety of conduct as a man, and fidelity and attention as an officer, I dare engage for ; but with any thing like business, except manual labour, I am totally unacquainted. I had intended to have closed my late ap- of a country i'anu.T ; bin ;.;'tor discharges some filial and fraternal claims, I find I could only fight for existence in that miserable man- s of s death, the poor man's last 1 know, sir, that to need your goodness is to have a claim on it; may I thei Fore 1 vour patronage to forward me in this affair, "till I be appointed to a division, where, by Ou help of rigid economy, I will try to support that independence so dear to ray soul, but which has been too often so distant from my She form 'd of varioi And all mechanics' many-apron 'd kinds. The lead and buoy are needful to the net The caput morluum of gross desires Makes a material, for mere knights and The martial phosphorus is taught to flow, She kneads the lumpish philosophic dough. Then marks the unyielding mass with gra Last, she sublimes th' Aurora of the poles, The flashing elements of female souls. ! order 'd system fair before her stood, •e well pleased pronounced it very goc {est, she tried one curious labour more, spumy, fiery, ignis fatuus matter ; Such as the slightest breath of air might sc With arch alacrity and conscious glee (Nature may have her whim as well as we, Her Hogarth-art perhaps she meant to show ""-- "orms a thing, and christens it — a poet ure, though oft the prey of care and s When bless 'd to-day unmindful of lo-morrc A being form'd t' amuse.his graver friends. Admired and praised—and there the horn; rtal quite unfit for fortr.ue's strife, work. propless climber of mankind, his helpless woodbine state, .1..' . ,_ i- . . , - \ , ; — A title, and the only one I claim, lay strong hold for help on bounteous Graham. Pity the tuueful muses' hapless train, Weak, timid landmen on life's stormy main ". absorbent stuff, ibly takes enough ; The little fate allows, they share as soon, erb'd, wisdom's hard-wrung Who make poor will da wait upon 1 should — We own they 're prudent, but who feels they 're good? Ye wise ones, hence ! ye hurt the social eye ! God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy ! But come, ye who the godlike pleasure know, Heaven's attribute distinguish 'd— to bestow 1 Whose arms of love would grasp the human Come, thou who givest with all a courtier's - !. ■-' : _',i. 1. i Backward, abash 'd to ask thy friendly aid ? I know my need, I know thy giving "hand; I crave thy friendship at thy kind command ; But there are such who court the tuneful nine- Heavens, should the branded character be Whose verse in manhood's pride snblimely DIAMOND CABINET LIBBARV. Mark, how their lofty independent spirit Soar, on the spurning wing of injured merit Seek not the proofs i:i pril 0e 1 I Pity, the best of words should Le but « ind ! So to heaven's gates the lark-shrill soo| But grovelling on the ea In all the clamorous cry They dun benevolence v Oli:gc them, patronize They persecute you all y Ere my poor soul such < kt'.r. ,lh --!,; heir ti jur future days » plough agj , I dare even tl n is in thy gift: To soothe the madding passi To soothe I 1 think the Aidn . Like Thomi looked into nature for himself ' on. One ig passions into peace, is, in simplicity, har- stance has he said t< 'much. II if too much ol till jis progress, but like a true Poet of Nature "s i... course. His beginning imple, and modest, as if distrustful of lha mgth of his pinion : only, 1 do not altoge- ther like " Winding margin of an hundred miles. " No. LXL ~ The perspective that follows mountains blue — the imprisoned billows beating in vain —the TO MR P. HILL. wooded isles— the digression of the jew tree — " Ben Lomond's lofty cloud-enveloped head, ' ' ic. are beautiful. A thunder-Ma jeel which has been often tri.d, yet our pari. Mauchline, Ut October, 1788. in his grand picture, has intirjected acircuai. stance, so far as I know, eulinly original : been the "Address to Lochlomond," you "The gloom in panne'.Ied one'of the author's jury, to de- . t.t streaks of moving termine his criminality r..-pfcting the sin of tire. " poesy, my verdict should be '* Guilty ! a poet of Nature's making!" It is an excellent me- In his preface to the storm, " the glens how thod for improvement, and what 1 believe dark between, " is noble Highland landscape ! every poet does, to place some favourite classic The " rain plowing the red moo] . author, in bis own walhs of study and compo- beautifullj fancied. Ben Lomoi. pathless top," is a gnod expression ; end the your author had not mentioned the name, I surrounding view from it is truly great ; the could have, at half a slance, guessed his model to be Thomson. Will mi brother po. t for;i*e me, if I venture to hint, that his imitation of Beneath the learning sun, " that immortal bard, is in two or three places rather more servile than such a genius as his is well described ; and here, he has contrived le poem, are the funis crowding, in wintry s, to Lochlomond "s " hospitable flood ; " sportsman, 'jn i» u the Si-flsoM. T he idea of " . . .10 is o is a noble rnV if poetic genius. " I , ," nre all in the same sule. «li If 1 am thus holding forth. perhaps lirini hoi ■M.illtll J Igl is BURNS LETTERS. I must beg your pardon for this lengthene. grateful thanks tor for him two h ooks. Letters on the Rel gion es- Hal to Ma , The Wo rid Unmasked, o the greatest C leaL Send me hem by The Bible you is truly ele £ant ; I o ly wish it had been in Maudline* 13th Nov he very great pleasui K. and Miss G. M'K. with their flattering attentions, and artful compliments, absolutely turned my head. I own they did not lard me inly looked upon myself a endly welcome, elegant mark, lest I should be y orientalisms of appla d with the major'; thought to balance horns w ith an ode of gratitude to the family of Dunlop. Lomond, i Edinburg oem entitled An Address to Loch said to be written by a gentleman the masters of the High School at and the same who translated th( ory of the Pari'a, as published it )r Anderson. t Heifer. A the flow of soul. " SIR, November 8, 1 otwiths Inch t . i°rf e ou? pprobrions e hilosophers ,:d , e of uc iversal seln hness, the p hey have g ven us; stil , the inanity to th ce to the fallen, ar •: a!l uman h eart Evei the unhappy parti ur kind ' Lis fflli^ mpath e miseries of brother? w e forget the i ,j>;ne :nt last Wednesday to my parish church, ordially to join in grateful acknowledg- t blessings of the glorious revolution. isofhis cu..,, the s Bred and educated in revolution principles, could not be any silly political prejudice which manner, in which the reverend gentleman J - L - House of Stua - — ay. We'mayrejok n.h ... e of t! deli- np the ashes of those, whose n perhaps as much as their ci authors of those evils ; and w i, withou made attempts, that most of us would I done, had we been in their situation. "The bloody and tyrannical House of Stuart, " may be said with propriety and jus- tice when compared with the .present Royal Family, and the sentiments of our days ; but is there no allowance to be made for the man- ners of the times ? Were the royal contempo- raries of the Stuarts more attentive to their subjects' rights ? Might not the epithets of "bloody and tyrannical," be, with at least equal justice, applied to the House of Tudor, The simple state of the case, sir, seems to be this — At that period the scieuce of govern- ment, the knowledge of the true relation be- DIAMOND CABINET LIBRA It V. It ages of ignorance and bar- The Stuarts only contended for prerogatives which they knew their predecessors enjoyed, nnd which they saw their contemporaries en- joying ; bat these prero stiri . v. ere inimical to the happiness of a nation, and the rights of the consequence of that light of science, which ' d lately dawned over Europe, the monarch F Franc id hap; in, jf bis people : n'ol'h Whet ingofpart . mt likewise, happily tor us, the kingly power vasshifred into l no! her branch of the family, vho, as they owed the throne solely to the call if a free people, could claim nothing incon-is- jenauted terms which placed The laughed i been condemned i caprice of fortune, an omnipotence in particu- lar accidents and conjunctures of circumstances, which exalt us as heroes, or brand us as mad- men, just as they are for or against as ? ri hut o justly ,. those who would have subverted whole Ijegislatii'e Body, for similar ■ :■,,- I cannot enter into the merits of the , ' i ■ .-, the Engli-.li convention was in iii, will cel.-htute the ■r looked With rev, of a parent, cast of the kings of h No. LX1V. TO MRS DLNLGP. Elitlani, 17/A Dvtxmier, ITS Yours, dated Edinburgh, which I have just and wholly deaf," are melancholy news of hu- and honoured friend, thej carry misery in the sound. Gooduess on your part, and gratitude on mine, began a tie, which has gradually and s of my bosom ; and I trembU f miry ric MSs the b, i and the fancy of es, and dirty dung- il part of the func- , 1 bad belter been nnd then I should lave been plagued with any ideas s eakiug of clods, nnd picking up | :o mention barn-door cocks or ma which I could almost ex, any time — If you continue so < f.ir of Ayr, and by all that is sacred in the world, friend, 1 will come and see you. Your meeting, which you so well describe, with jour old schoolfellow and friend, was truly i lut upon the ways of the world '. —They spo I .. rinfa of the heart." Two veterans of the "men of tlo world" would have met, with little more heart- road. Apropos, is not the Scotch phrase, "Auld lang syne," exceedingly a ough in t in, I shall give the other sheet, ns 1 suppose you the post age. f Light be t ven-in^pired poet who composed ■ fragment ! There is more of the fire of native genius in it, than in half a doren of modern Hugh h Itacchanalians. Now 1 am on my hobby horse, I cannot help in ,11 :ig two other old stanzas, which please me mightily. That I ni iv BURNS. Thetrnmpe . jears are ranked re are heard afar, thick and blood.v ady make ml' anger wish to tarr that's heard afar, y; Nc , LXV. TO A YOUNG LADY, BALLAD. madam, December, 1788. I understand my very worthy neighbour, Mr Ridde!, has informed yon that I have made you the subject of some verses. There is jnfortunate alternative of leav- verses, the unfinished produe- ear. I 'have heard or read merely he said as a ncta bene to point out the agreeable recollection to his memory. 'What to me : and the verses I do myself the honour '■- =-"■-' : v. ■ -r :. .- -. .: ; ...-.._-. kind that he indulged in. It may be more owing to the fastidiousness u-lii'i i til, r i \ei, and hurt with the insipidity, affectation, and pride of mankind, that when I meet with a person «• after my own heart," I positively feel what an orthodox protestant wouid call a species of idolatry, which acts on my fancy 1 eme is youth and beauty, a iUally striking and unaffected, and threescore years before I No. LXVT. TO SIR JOHN WH1TEFORD. d worthy friend, has informi a man,' and, (what to me arer) my fame as a poet. I in- rat. :,ara!,l; bly your character in life, when I w to their notice byr , friends to them and honoured acquaintances to me : but you are the first gentleman in the country whose benevo- lence and goodness of heart has interested him for me, unsolicited and unknown. I am not master enough of the etiquette of these matters formal duty bade, or cold propriety disallowed, my thanking you in this manner, as I am con- vinced, from the light in which you kindly view me, that you will dome the justice to needy, sharping author, fastening on those in heart and talents tLej, Live rt times been guilty of. I do not think prodigality is, by any means, believe a careless, indolent inattention to' eco- nomy, is almost inseparable from it ; then there must be in the heart of every bard of Nature's making, a certain modest sensibility, mixed with a kind of pride, that will ever keep him out of the way of those windfalls of fortune, which frequently light on hardy impudence and a more helpless state than his, whose poetic fancy unfits him for the world, and whose sions to ihe pclitesse of life — yet is as poor ts For my part, I thank Heaven, my star has above the peasant's shed, and I have an inde- I was surprised to hear that any one, who -of the gentl an, should bi j icL,:> ; :ethe o f:o'i,: Is of such a one a neddlo most unfortunate, unhappy pan , sir, for the warmth with which you inter- d in behalf of my conduct. I am, I ac- ivledge, too frequently the sport of whim, integrity to my fellow-creatures, I hope I u ;. r y..'.ir lovely flock DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, minds of a different No. LXYII. FfiOM UB C. BURNS. January, 1789. iloesgiel, DEAR BROTHER. I have just fii 1 lor ny new-year's-day break- i, which" naturally makes ays of former years, and •* through the dark postern of time long elapsed," I cannot help remarking to yon, m} ) you and Mrs Burn ii.nems of the id be* you will er to William, GILBEltT BURNS. No. I»X VII I. TO -MRS DUNLC P. Ellisland, New-Year day Morning, 1789. lis. dear madam, is a morning of wishes, t I came under (he apostle James's descriptioi righteous man " blessings ; every thing that obstructs or dis- turbs Iranqa :.t, should be removed, and every pleasure that frail huma- nity can taste, should be yours. I own myself so little a Presbyterian, that I approve of set times and seasons of more than ordinal] acts of devotion, for breakii of life a n\ Jay aboii about the cud, of l unday of May ; a h me a'kindVf holi- l believe I owe this to that glorious paper in the Spectator, "The Visionof MiMa;* a piece thai siruck my young fancy before 1 was capable of fixing an idea to a word of three syllables: "On the atli day of the moon, wliich, according to the custom of my forefa- thers, I always Urp )u ,y, uI'ut having washed myself, ami oil. r. .1 up my morning devotions, ■■1 the high hi pass the rest of the di Wo know nothing, o the mbstani Bagdat, inediiaiiou aim to nothing, of 1. IV. Ih lll.lt, ,i li;.ii, .11 n daisy, the hare-be ld-brier rose, the bi hoary hawthorn, that I l w ilh particular delight. 1 never hear the loud, solitary whistle of the curlew, in a summer noon, or the wild roiling cadence of a troop of grey plover, in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, to what can this be owing? Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the jEolian harp, passive, takes the impression of the pas- within us lU.-.c ll: tr. .'■ !■- 1 ! realllk b— a ( aterial ilh and the TO DR MOORE. Ellhland, near Dumfr 1.': J s ofieu as I think of writing to jou, whicl is been three or four times every w eek the*. x months, it gives me something so like th< ea of an ordinary-sized statue offering at i nversatiou with the Rhodian Colossus y mind misgives iride. 1 know that a very great deal of my ale eclat was owing to the s.ngularil} of my iluation, and the honest prejudice of Scots- men ; but sliU, as I said in the preface to my ome pretensions from Nature to the poetic baraclcr. I have not a doubt but the knack, the aptitude, lo learn the muses' trade, is a '■'- ' .stewed by Him " who forms ' if the soul ; "— I lit I as firm 1} believe, lh..t -.-'on is tie fruit of in- dustry, labour, i press I put off to '.■ ■' . ■ - to prosecute with all mj vigour. Nature has talents of bhi I composi- tion. 1 shall in I for until trial II ble lo know) whether she has qualified me to shine in anyone. The wor»t ot it ■-. ly the the mental BURNS.— LETTERS, '. ^ lla P te thin ,.- tljau of all poetic diseases— hear br< iking despondency of himself. Dare I, si already immensely indebted to your goodnes ask the additional obligation of ycur beins tb friend to me ? I inclose you an essay of min - 'It of poesy to me entirely new ; I me: the raham of Fintry, Esq. a gentleman as. The story of the poe st of my poems, is connected with n of u j ou' something of the other. I cannot boast I believe, I shall, in whole, Z-,100 copy-right gentleman has yet to settle with me. I give honour\o n in r urebt° joursdf much" in my wel! To give the rest of my story in brief, I have married " my Jean, " and taken a farm ; w ith to be s atisiied ; with the r brother ^InffhH'lEr}" that I have lost so much— I only interposed between my brother and his impent on this, for it was mere'selhshness on my part ; I was conscious that the wrong scale of the balance was pretty heavily charged, and I thought that li.iov. in_ a iiti • iiial piety, and might help to smooth matters at the grand reckoning. There is still one thing would No. LXX. TO BISHOP GEDDES. Ellisland near Dumfries, 3d Feb. 17S0. VENERABLE FATHEB, of life, and have now not only the im, where I am, and for what I am at first concern, the conduct of the Mtually blameable, and there I have myself in the way pointed out by rod Nature's God. I was sensible vould b warfare with myself, on account of habitual follies, to give them no worse name, which no general example, no licentious wit, no sophis- lelitj would, to me, ever justify, I madman to have made another choice. ife taught me to expect. Thus, with a rational aim and method in ife, you may easily guess, my reverend and ' -honoured friend, that my characteristical iver an enthusiast to the muses. I am deten that view incessantly ; and to try if th< You will see'?n yci your pardon for detainii ig, that I have oeen runrng my tyre on tne Danks of Nith. Some larger poetic plans that are floating in my impart to you when I have the pleasure of Edinburgh, I shall have about the beginning of March. That acquaintance, worthy sir, with which No. L5XT. FROM THE REV. P. C— u.gujj reapeiuaure lur eicij . and virtue which adorns th. mthor of ter. He DIAMOND CAU1.NET L1BUARV. degree of literature, of taste, and poetic genii was added an invincible modesty of temp which prevented, in a great degree, his figuri in life, and confined the perfect knowledge of his character and talents to the small circle of his chosen friends. He was untimely taken from us, a few weeks ago, by an inflammatory fever, in the prime of life— beloved by all who enjoyed his acquaintance, r that e fell it fell upon h bead of n ented by genius. of; if a large octavo volume. In parti complete and regular tragedies, It falls to my share, w ith him from my youth u if your incomparable poeo Scottish style: and I hesitate not to sa; general, that they will bring no dishonou the Scottish muse ; — and allow me to add, if it is your opinion they are not unworthy of the author, and will be no discredit to jo is the inclination of Mr Mylne's friends they should be immediately published in • periodical work, to give the world a spec in the poetic line, which, perhaps, wil alierwards published for the advantage o: I must beg the favour of a 1 acknowledging the receipt of i allowed to subscribe myself will Sir, your most oLedien u'd mnngle me in the mire, I am tempted eiclaim — *• Wbat merits has he had, ca- dence, that be is ushered into this state of ig with the sceptre of rule, and the key of les, iu bis puny fist, and I am kicked into world, the sport of folly, or the victim of le ?*' I ha\e read somewhere of a monarch Spain I think it was.) who was so out of ny, that he said, had he been of the Crea. 's council, he could have saved him a great 1 of labour and absurdity.- I will not de- d this blasphemous speech ; but often, as I e glided with humble stealth through the up of Prince's Street, it has suggested itself ne, as an improvement on the present hu- •' ■ a man, in proportion to his it of h of his ,e neck ind limb-sinews of many of his Mije*t;. 's luge ubjects in the way of tossing the head and iptoe strutting, would evidently turn out a ast advantage, in enabling us at once to adjust vay to a great man, and that too within a econd of the precise spherical angle of reve- ence, or an inch of the particular point of ..nee, which the important crea- ure itself requires : as a measuring glance at ts towering altitude would determine the affair You are right, madat MvineVpoem. which b The piece has a good di n your idea of poor uraged such a shoal o Mr C— j try o. ;ud's English pieces. .u>, tijf 1 erusalof ail Mjlne'a i would have offered in either selecting or proper for the press. No. LXXU. TO MRS DUNLOP. ... I give you them, lb: the original, you may guest ike mine, the scene of domestic luslla of Edinburgh will soon be lickening dUgubt. ■ mfi.rt. d glory or this world, I hale skulk into a corner, led the .■ of butiu- gaping blockhead the fair plant that from our touch with- Shrink mildly fearful even from applause, Be all a mother's fondest hope can dream. Strai;;li( a-, the foi-^lme, t-re her I ells disclo.-e, "'■' ' as the uiuiden-Mub>iiiig li nuhoru blows, as the fnir.'st of each lovely kind, • form shall be the image of your mind : nil shall long; to know the v BURNS. -LETTERS. No. LXXIIL TO THE REV. P. CARFRAE. I am much to blame : the honour Mr Myln stance, of its being the last production of hi I ha ve, as you hint tho ught of sending a copy of the am afraid prup.T step accide tal a. has I rought ■ th I ". Su ^orir.Lon- for Sco ned, and aily do dun that tli y name is contempt. Forth ng any jf Mr M. 's poems S °"a S zine PU * a. all prudent, in lny opi ,l;iutL .a!=Cot-.; = h poem. ''iL = . ; la! , ur of a man of gen hunou able as any what Mr ■■-. - are mo t justly entitled "V, h st harvest, let the friends of Mr Mylne's faate (among whom I crave the honour of ranking myself), and as a poet, and take no measure that, be- fore the world knows any thing about him, would risk his name and character being classed with the fools of the times. in two or three English and Scottish public papers, any one of liis English poems which * These beautiful lines, No. LXXIV. TO DR MOORE. sik, EUUland, 23d March, 17S9. The gentleman who will deliver you this is a Mr Neilson, a worthy clergyman in my neigh- needs your assistance, and v ectually serve him :— Mr Neil -. tU- Trance, to • " ilofin of a good s for specting the mosi mode of travelling, &c. for him, when he'bas crossed the Channel. I should not have dared to take this liberty with you, hut that I am told, by those who have the honour of your personal acquan r of r you, j have aTbo^rbu°t U r^en? leighbourhood, and ai However, in the particular part of her conduct to Ayrshire, I had put up at Bailie Wigham 's in Sanquhar, the only tolerable inn in the evening and howling wind were ushering in a night of snow and drift. My horse and I were uch fati with r laboii of the ;the Bailie joking bowl, in wheels the funeral pageantry forced to brave all the horrors of the tempes- dght, and jade my horse, my young :e horse, whom I had just christen 1 Pegasus, twelve miles farther on, through the wildest muirs and hills of Ayrshire, to New Cumnock, the nest inn. The powers of poesy cribe what I felt. Suffice'it to say, that when . good fire, at New Cumnock, had so far re- wrote the inctosVode.' 11 ^ ' I was at Edinburgh lately, and settled nally with Mr Creech ; and I must own, hat, at last, he has been amicable and ftJr No. LXXV. TO MR HILL. : LIBHAUV. II is economy, sir ; it is lhat cardinal \irtue, either compose or borrow a panegyric. If you are going to borrow, apply to to compose, or rather to compound, something : :, mj rcmarkab e frugality ; that 1 write to one of my m»-l esteemed friends on this wretched paper, which was originally in- tended for the venal fist of some drunken ex- e dirty notes in a miserable t of anal O Frugal ity ! thou moth green* ! -t TornfomMcTu .j'u^tV/'i lead me, h eary feet: -not crags, bleu k and barren. of fame arc, bi in.", liangi thosi glitti ing Cliffs of Pot all-powerful dei where the sunny exposure lyed stockings with Col »' : !' y. °nd produce those blist ives of paradise!— Thou withered sybil, age conductress, usher me into the refulgc idored presence !— The power, splendid i ig of thy faithful care, and tender nru ill me thy son, thy cousin, thy kinsman. oppression, t But to descend from heroi home-leech ol private e of public robbery ! 1:1 111 .1 I one .Mr It.. I>. it ! xnir Well-wisher. I him, in,.: i. i . iii-.t lime i-. alie i.l, i ■■ ■ ,'muhitiouol il "ill l.e .Ml H. gave his Society"—* copv of The Special . and Lome ■■ ■ ■. Mm of \hc World, Gudhrie't Geogrttphu-al Gr~.< some religious pieces, will likely I When I grow richer, I will "rile to you on gill po»t, lo make amends for ihi- prcseol, every guinea has a five guinea errand Your faithful, poor, but honest ; No. LXXVI. TO MRS ; Ellitland, id April, 17f I no sooner hit on any poetic plan or ft but 1 « ish to send it to you ; and if kno and reading these give half the pleasure to that communicating them to you gives to I have a poetic whim in my head, which I at present dedicate, or rather inscribe, lo the Sight Hon. (.'. J. Fox; bat bo fancy may hold, I cannot sny. A few of the first lines I have just rough sketched, as fol- I sing : If these mortal*, the critics, should bustle, 1 care not, not I, let the critics go whistle. Out now for a patron, whose name and whose K'ory, Thou, first of our one . id and ■eaulremenl With knowledge so vast, and with judgment No man with the half of '.in . u so potent, and No man with the hall ol right ; V sorry, poor mi ' Good I. .1. wh.t . and hit \\ ilh his ,1, pili, mid his shallow • BURNS—LETTERS, le ruling passion Sir Pope the old Hebrew walking-switch, Mankind are hi you know him r "-- -tring, ruling passi One trifling particular, For, spite of his fine theoi -box— a friend, would Nor May n sigh, ?anderer of the wood and field, e thickening brakes or verdant i home, or food, or pastime yield. Seek, mangled le drunken fellovi In the make of that wonderful creature ( Man. No two virtues, whatever relation they claim, wo different shades of the same Though like as was ever twin brother tc ther, Possessing the one shall imply you ve the life a mother only can bi is by winding Nith. I mi e the No. LXSTII. TO MR CUNNINGHAM. i ; 9. Lpr ly I pel V dear SIB, EUisIani, 4th our duly free favour of the 26th April ceived two'days ago : I will "isl'ature! by express proviso in their postage ws, should frank. A letter informed Witt le soul of friendship is such an honour tc uman nature, that they should order it fret A me know how you like my poem. I doubtful whether it wov.ld not be an El- ement to keep out the last stanza but one altogether. _ _ ^ thoVofnTTn! 3 ¥0°,? he! and the'noMe Colonel No. LXXVIIL [The poem in the preceding letter, had also been sent by our bard to Dr Gregory for his • icism. The following is that gentle- n'sreply.l FROM DR GREGORY. 1KB. SIR, Edinburgh, 2d June, 17S9. One morning lately as I was out pretty early in the fields sowing some grass seeds, 1 heard the burst of a shot from a neighb. m tation, and presently a poor little wounded hare came crippling by me. You will gt my indignation at the inhuman fellow < cculd shoot a hare at this season, when t . all of them have young ones. Indeed mere d if you please, for you ! may judge ft DIAMOND l il freedom, give j< n reading it. Pray, give me like nyself, and her too, a eopy (as muc 1.1 you please; ol" the WuLr fowl o flow well ; and the rhyme of the fourth line i the two interposed, pass. "Mu ► lained'," in fault : Blcalh have no notio not very Intelligible. " Ulood- tanza iii. line 4, has the same lied yourself to such epithets, and i how stiff und quaint thej ap- Pe ".'f ° lhe Pope^aTwr b< som gored, l'urm is neith r», and how Iten, "Why " how would er a poetic, no incongruous with limeuts. Suppose that blood-stained plain commo "Mangled in this sense, Stanza 4._ l word: it is a mere sportsman s able to pathetic or serious poetry. is a nursery word ; hut both may -«• Who wil now provide that life a mother only can bcslo W," will not do at mother had bestowed an i used to provide title of your copy of would be wrong: it is but a colloquial and vulgar word, unsuitable to your sentiments. ith a fowling piece. of Mrs Hunter's •• 1 1.. jut lit II * distinguished il"in li • reiuiuiv. I< ) smile nt lb.' iiiiinner in which tin' him quite a-lack. In .. Idler which he , ti is a in, bui hi crucifies me."- And ngai.,, eve in the iron justice of l>r li ; • the ill V lU. t believe mid tremble. " ' . lh.-c criticisms, n, the ;; l ; (1 ^ ] ;;; IINBT LIBBABT. \\l\. TO Mil " DBAS SIR. ilkJm . Though I am not without my fears mv fate at that grand, universal i . commonly called '1 ■ , yet 1 tru.-t there is one sin, whi I vagabond, Satan, who, I understand, is to be king's evidence, cannot throw in my teeth — I mean ingratitude. There is a certain pretty large quantum of kindness for which I remain, and, from inability, I fear, must I debtor ; but though unable to repay I I r, 1 sljal! ever warmly remember the obligation. It gives me i. pleasure to hear by my old acquaintance, Mr Kennedy, that you are, in immortal Allan's language, " Hale and weel, and living ;" and that yi or dunning family ore well, and pro- tion to the company of performers, whom the Great Manager of the Drama of Man h, bring- ing into action tor the succeeding age. With respect to mv welfare, a subject in which you once warmly and effect e.-ted yourself, I am here in my old way, hold- ing my plough, marking the growth of my corn, or the heahh of my dairy ; and at limes sauntering by the delightful v\ INilb, on the margin of which I have built my humble don ther, or holding ..n intrigue wi:h the only gipseys with whom I have now any As 1 am entered into the holy slate of matrimony, I trust my face is turned completely Zion-ward ; and as it is a rule with II hon. -i fellows, to npeal no hope that the little poetic lie, ■.. days, willof course fall under the oblivious in- fluence of some good-natured statute of celestial proscription. In my family devotion, which, like a good prcsbyterian, I occasionally give to ■old folks, I am exlren. the psalm, ■• I ,\e. and that other, •• l.o, children ore tiod 's heritage," lie. in which last Mrs B by the bye, has a gloric No. I.WV in MBS DTJUXOP. Ellitlani, BlsJJiens, 1780. PKAR MAHAM, Will you lake the effusion*, the mi « spirits, just as the. How fr. ui their bitter spring. 1 . eulor cause rol . -I. a thickening ata JKaaalsy EiriHB.c. *s it equally concerns the ignorant and the learned, the poor and the rich. That there is in incomprehensibly great Being, to whom mately acquainted with the operations and LETTERS — , the stanzas from that begin] outward deportment of ,hi~cr re, I think, t propositions. That consequently that I am an accountable creati that from the seeming nature of the hui mind, as well as from the evident imperfect] flection. I will go farther, and affirm, that from the sublimity, excellence, and purity of his doctrine and precepts, unparalleled by- all the aggregated wisdom and learning of ate of our species : therefore, Jesus Christ was from God. Whatever mitigates the woes, or increases the happiness of others, this is mv criterion of large, or any individual in it, this is my m What think you, madam, of my creed ? trust that I have said nothing that will les FROM DR MOORE. Clifford Slreet, 10th June, 17S9. you for the different communications e'made me of your occasional produc- If I our futur "rocuetW u'= hoTA d b L e : don the Scottish a tanza and dia and ac the mea sure and language of e lode rn Engl sh poetry. tanza w ich yon use in i mitation of Christ' Kirk on nof "th the Green, w at day," is fa th ngtoE ° e s, and I s y agreea to Scot All the fine sat re and humou -cf your fl % Fair is English ; ye trouble to yours e ha e conve *d if \cur ether poems. In your Epistle lo J. which ends with, " Short while it " are easy, flowing, gaily philosophi- of Horatian elegance— the language is , with a few Scottish words, and some so harmonious, as to add to the beauty : t poet would not prefer gloaming to nderstand you sneaking kindness to t ji, fc reeable gipsey, lit frt ^■jse, Luc tends on the coutr ary to promote r Cadell to v -rite to Mr Creech to id you a copy of Zeluco This performance I shall be glad do r. t think. ,;> : un Ifsh ivish her, she is happy »h. Make my mplimeuts a - and believe me be, with sincere esteem Dear Sir, 3 ours,- &c No. LXXSLII. FROM MISS J. n-House, 12th Jul;/, KS9. he happiness of being per- You must know, sir, I am e with the Muses, though I ny favours they have deigned possessed by Mrs I > Mrs Dunlop of I >r, which I should n r Terses of address to DIAMOND CA11INET L1BRAUY. Fair fa' the honest rustic swain. The pride o' u' our Scottish plain : And notes sue tweet Old Ramsay s shade revived again e you will thai h generosity and good- tnt jour exposing what To all she did her aid refuse, "TiU Burns aro To bear thy sang all raol Sue v.eel you strike (he d Apollo .wth poetic fire Thy breai Cfesar and Luath weel el To hear their lee N Thy dedication to miles I'd travel H. :spun speech, P. S.— If you would condescen me with a few lines from your ha take it as a particular favour, and at Loudcu-JIuuse near Galelock. No. LXXXIII. FROM MR London, 5.'A August, 1 78J jse me when I say, that the uncommo ties which you possess, must render yci correspondence very acceptable to any one. can assure you, I am particularly proud of yoi When slighted love becomes your theme. And women's faithless vows you blame ; With so much pathos you exclaim. But glanced by the moot frigid dame, .upraise the whisky gill: ' U " V"',.r fame to raise; o sounds from ilka hill. To Burns 's praise. in or Pope but hear. They in a rage And curse your page. Sure Milton's eloquence wer Tho beauties of your verse to My rude unpolish obviously probable, side, every nation and ition has reached, for '■• 'Tis this, : Tistf xy friend, tl reaks oi ■\\hen wealth forsakes i are few : When friends are faithh d when friends when foes pur- 'Tis this that wards the blow, or stills the ipels his dart : 2 spread her cloudlets ; leen :ry busy •ith Zehic, The well as I can. my thoughts on the subjec 1 Dku, k leu Din:, je i DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. And tired o' sauls tc No. U FROM DR BLACKLOCK. Edinburgh, 21(/i Au&ut, 17b Dear Hums, tliou brother of my heart, Both for thy virtues and thy art : Wl.i. Ii ii lure's lo.n.n , large and free Will. |.k isure on thy b And wan as thy soul w h all the Muses Whalnr easy grace. Thy nun, Or bid lb And ri.il. grief surprise, 'Tis Nat re's voice distinct.; Through thee her orga , thus to melt. Most anxiously I wis h to know, With the How kee s thy miich-1 ved Jean her h V* hut |,r mises lliy fa. Whether the Muse per And all thy anxious" ca Whether eepsalivc?^ And bow thy darling ii : to gloomy thoughts t TIIO. BLACKLOCK. No. L>. TO Dll BLACKLOCK. EUutarJ, 2 I our letter made me vauntie ! And are ye hale, anil weed, and ennlie ? L'ird send you aye iu weal's I want ye, And lli The ill-thief blaw the l- And nc\ir drink he near his drouth ! • •' mouth, He'd tak my led ' But what d'ye think, my trusty tier, I'm turn'd a gauger — Peace be here ! l'lirnawiau queens. If. r I Yell now disdain me. And then my fifty pounds a-year Will fiule gain me. Ye elaiket, gleesome, dainty damies, Wha ly Castalia's wimplin streomies. That Strang necessity supreme is 'Alang sons o' inn. 'I he] maun hae brose and brats o' duddies : \ e ken ji arse] my bean right proud it, But I'll send Lesoms— • Lord help me through this world o' care .' Not but i hae a richer share Than raony ithtrs ; But why should ae man belter f;.re. And a' men brithen Come, Firm Resolve, tak thon the van. Faint'Sean" And let us mint A ladv fair : Wha does the utmost that he can, Will wbylesdomair. But to conclude my silly rhyme, To make a happy fireside clime To weans and « ife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life. My compliments to sister Beckie ; to honest Lock;;— I wat she is a daiutie d And gratefully my gude auld coekie, ■ BOBEtn No. I.XWYHI. i R. GRAHAM, BBQ. OF HM'HV. IR, (MA Dumber, 17S0. ive n go<>d while hod n wish to trouble you * Mr Heron, author of (be Ii thought proper to n lother helpless, the c obliged is all fair ; an of Mr Mitchell, my collector, and the kind assistance of Mr Findlater, my supervisor. I dare to be honest, and I fear no labour. Nor do I find my hurried life greatly inimical to • ' b Muses. Thei indeed, ;t of their acquaintance, like the visits of good them now and then as I jog through the hills of Nithsdale, just as I used to do on the banks of Ayr. I take the liberty to inclose you a few bagatelles, all of them the productions of my leisure thoughts in my excise rides. If you know or have ever seen Captain Grose, the antiquarian, you will enter into any 'n the verses on him. Perhaps before, li I'll,!: a London Newspaper. Though I dare say you have none of the solemii-league-and-cove- nant fire, which shone so conspicuous in Lord George Gordon, and the Kilmarnock weavers, yet I think you must have heard of Dr M'Gill, one of the clergymen of Ayr, and his heretical book. God help him, poor man ! Though he is one of the worthiest, as well as one of the ablest of the whole priesthood of the Kirk of Scotland, in every sense of that ambiguous term, yet the poor Doctor and his numerous out to the mercy of the winter-winds. The inclosed ballad on that business is, I confess, boroughs. I Ik re will be such a hard ru hi' [ha S e election. * I am too littl eaman to hai e any poh ical attachments : '.'..•Lie'j aUoa avi. uals of both parties i has power to be the father of a coi :.:ry. Sir J. J. do yet I doubt his fate. * This alludes to the contest for the lgh of Dumfries, between the Duke of leensberry's interest and that of Sir J ami No. LXXXIX. TO MRS DUNLOP. EUlsland, \Zih December, 1789. Many thanks, dear madam, for your sheetful ofvli ires. Though at present I am below ^LVs r ' e ia P m 'roanin/3e-tLm1seri , e hinfr - scarce able to lift my hea Man ! To-day, in the 1 !, is a^ome- tuing at which he recoils, "Tell us, ye dead; will none of you in pity What 'tis you are, and tee must shortly be I A little time will make us learn 'd as you are. Can it be possible, that when I resign this frail, feverish being, Ishall still find myself in conscious existence! When the last gasp of agony has announced that I am no more to those that knew me, and the few who loved me: when the cold, stiffened, unconscious, ghastly corse is resigned into the earth, to be the prey of unsightly reptiles, and to become in time a trodden clod, shall I yet be warm in life, seeing and seen, enjoying and enjoyed ? Ye venerable sages, and holy llamens, is there ruth in your .. all a: fables ? If there is another life, it must be only for the just, the benevolent, the amiable, and the humane ; what a flattering idea, then, is the world to come ! Would to God I as firmly believed it, as I ardently wish it '. There I should meet an aged parent, now at rest from the many buffettings of an evil world, against which he so long and so bravely strug- gled. There should I meet the friend, the disinterested friend of my early life ; the man who rejoiced to ses thy heart gloi luir ! thy weakne very thing genen DIAMOND CABINET L1BBAUY. Jems Christ, Ihou amiablcst of choraclcrs, I trust Ihou art no impostor, and that thy re- velation of blissful scents ol after lime hare bsei ikind. I trust lhal il impositions v blessed," by bung yet connected together belter world, where every lie lhat bound h far beioud our present eouceptious, n endearing. I am a good deal inclined to think \ those who maintain that what ore called i vous affections are in fact disease* of James or Anthony, it was cruel in y. let me know ; as i promise you, on ll lily of a man, who is weary of one w anxious about auother, lhat scarce a could give me BO much pleasure as t< n ; befalling my honoured If you have a miuui. pen iu pity to k pauvre miserable TO SIR JOHN SINCLAIR. been oinif.ed iu the statistical account, Iruim- milted to you, of the parish of Puuscore, in Nithsdale. I beg leave to .end it lo you, bc- aew aud moj I e usoful. Ilo«i far it i* il.serving ol n place in your patriotic pub- 'lo storo the minds of the lower classes with u • lul I rli il o, ia certaii i, ling and reiloctioi w illi tin i i tin-, puri-.li, It. .1,1,1 It.. . I country ; .i i ..- tin- notice wholl .ll .1- li .1 walks of the peasant ai nortby of bis attention Mr Riddel got a nut nto a society for the pu iniuiig themselves. 1 sngagen-— - ing clause or two. il a legal Each u his entry, paid live shillings, and at each of their meetings, which were held every fourth Saturday, sixpence more. AVith their entry- money, and ilie ere .1 which Ihen took on the failh of their future funds, ihey laid in a tole- l\hat authors tiny were to purchase, vtus always decided by the majority . meeting, all the books, under Certain hues and forfeitures, by way of penalty, were to be pro- duced ; and the members had their choice ol the volumes in rotation, lie vihose name stood, for that night, first on the list, ban his choice of what voiume he pleaded collection ; the second bad his cli. .receding in. i !■ 3\S0 cling, w„s »lol..-M II ll .d i- - ?H? which was formed under Mr Riddel's , __ ii.e, what with beuefactious of u him, und what with their own purchases tiny had collected together upwards of one hundred and bfty vol.. guessed, that a good deal of trash would be bought. Among the books, however, of this little . lory 0/ Scotland, BuwteU BitloTj i I the Spectator, Idler, Adventurer, Mirror, . Kn of the a/, Von Quixote, Joteph An. drcm, rj-c. A peasant who can read and enjoy such Looks, is certainly a much suj I 10 his neighbour, who perhaps all Ins team, very little removed, except iu shape, from the Inn. I ..our palr.otic exertions their so 'sir, he above is extracted from the third lu- ll' Nil John Sinclair's S1..1. .. It was inclosed to Sir John by .Mr Ridded e following letter, also primed No. XCI. TO MR GILBERT BURNS. Ellislcmd, lift January, 1790. I mean to take achantage of the frank, though hypochondria pervading every atom of both body and soul. This farm has undone my enjoyment of myself. It is a ruinous affair on all" hands. But let it go to I I'll fight it out and be off with it. We have gotten a set of very decent players or two. David Campbell, in Ayr, wrote to me by the manager of tlae company, a Sir Sutherland, who is a man of apparent worth. > On New-year-day evening I gave him the following prologue, which he spouted to his audience with applause. No song nor dance I bring from yon great city, That queens it o'er our taste— the more i pity : Though, by the bye, abroad why will Good sense and taste are natives here at home-: Bur not for panegyric I appear, I come to wish you all a good new year ! Old Father Time deputes me here before ye, IVot for to preach, but tell his simple story : The sage grave ancient cough 'd, and bade me "You're one year older this important day," But 'twou'd be rude, you know, to ask the And wuh'a would-be-roguish leer and wink, BURNS LETTERS. 129 That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing, ~ou may do miracles by persevering. Last, though cot least, in love, ye youthful ngelic forms, high Heaven's peculiar care! And humbly begs you'll mind the important — To crown your happiness, he asks your leave, For our sincere, though haply weak en- With grateful pride we own your many No. XC1L TO SIRS DUNLOP. Eilisland, 25ih January, 17S now. Sly health is greatly better, and ijment with the rest of my fellow- stloms fOT 3 the"r ' ROBERT RIDDEL. ' 7".; Sir John Sinclair, of (Meter, Bart. " THINK !" me, in making me your compeer in friendship Ye sprightly youths, quite flush with hope and spirit. reminded of the real il H"lio think to storm the world by din: of merit, I), his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way! SJost sincerely do I rejoice with you, dear madam, in the good news of Anthony. Not He bids you mind, amid yoar thoughtless only your anxiety about his fate, bet my o«n rattle, esteem for such a noble, warm-hearted, manly That the Krst blow is ever half the battle ; voung fellow, in the little I had of his acquaint. That though some by the skirt may try to "ance, lias interested me deeply in his fortunes. Falconer, the unfortunate author of the Yet by the forelock is the hold to catch him, Sktpurreck, which you so much admire, is no more. After weathering the diea people, 1 think, that if a similar plan were and after weathering many hard gales of for- established, in the different parishes of Scot- tune, he went to the bottom with the Aurora land, it would tend greatly to the speedy im- frigate ! I forget what part of Scotland had provement of the tenantry, trades people, and the honour of giving him birth, but he was work people. Sir Burns was so good as to take the whole charge of this small concern. the son of obscurity and misfortune.* He * Falconer was in early life a sea-boy, to use a word of Shakspeare, on board a man-of- of Campbell, -..lire on Dr Johnson, entiiled Lexiphanes, then purser of the ship. Campbell took him as his servant, which Scotland, beyond s rude simplicity, speaks feelingly t ;rold simple ballad, which I se you. The catastrophe of >or ruiued female, lamenting includes with this pathetic But that I had died when I was young • " that the grave it were mj bed ; And sae sound as I should sleep : " I do not remember in all my reading to hare met with any thing more truly the language of Misery is like love ; to speak its language I am every day expecting tin DIAMOND CABINET MBRAUV. dventurous spi y "LaufdcW aii^rs delighted wander, and v bstanding i,, -;„<.,; . Thej By .1 IMry P ,rso a to be the boasted of him as his scholar. The editor had tlii, informal inn from a surgeon of a man. of war, in 1777, who knew loth Campbell and Falconer, and who himself perished soon after b;, shipwreck, on the .-oast of America. Though the death of Falconer happened so lately as 1770 or 1771, yet in the biogrnphy prefixed by l>i Anderson to his works, in the complete t'diti tli.- /'.- l< .■/ C, a, I lirilani, is snid, "Of the family, birth-place, and r..wns on (he coast of file, ail. I that . who haci sull'crcd ■ i boj, forlorn u •' which I > The bard No. XCIII. FROM MR CUNNINGHAM 2S;A January, 179C n some instances it is reckoned unpardon; have for your friendship, nothing can n uly, or more elegantly express, than ' Time but the impression stronger makes Saving written to you twice without having teard from you, I am apt to think my letters tave miscarried. My conjecture is only framed ipon the chapter of accidents turning up o inform you what is eoing on among the irele of your friends in th-.se parts. In these lays of merriment, I have frequently heard oiir name proclaimed at the jovial board — mder the roof of our hospitable friend at itenhouse Mills, there were no ' lingering moments Dumber 'd with care. " I am the champion, the Mend o^jroiii'aj-.ico^his^lanet 1. ided rep- black- eyed sistir, 1 remain, yours, 0.0 No. NOV. TO MR ClNMM.lt EUisland, 1 beg your pardon, n ashionable, unsightly 13.'A February 1790 "3 " y poverty but n t u.y will Cons •„,..' BbI o make amend i-b a sheet of -ill, which lie. III my drawer among my plebeian foolscap pages, like li > an of fashion, whom that imp. Hunrmiii) ! DM, with til* BURNS LETTERS. mdal-bearing belp-mate of a village prie a glass of whisky-toddy, with the ru sed yoke-fellow of a foot-padding er : -" my friend Cunningham t, ' and trust to ' ' Sincere, though impel Tuesday, ]6i I Luckily for me, I was prevented from the cussion of the knotty point at which I had , made a full stop. All my fears and cares of (his world : if there is another, an he ! man has no;hing to fear from it. I hate a lat wishes to be a Deist, but I fear, every :eptic. It is not that there are an ,an;° but 3 like electricity, pblogist ita to go upon. One thing' frightens me uch ; that we are to live for ever, seems too December, 17S9. MY B"AH CCNNIKGHAM, Where are you ? And what are you doing ? Can you be that son of levity, who takes up a you, like some other of the worthiest' fellows What strange bein ble of enjoying plea , equally capa- self-abhorrence. There decent competency, respectable friends, are daily see those who eujoy many or all of these good things, contrive, notwithstanding, to be as nnhappy as others to whose lot few of them have fallen. I believe one great source of this us tip The hill of life, not 1 as' we 'alcend "other eminences, for the laudable curiosity of viewing an extended landscape, but rather for the dis- honest pride of looking down on others of our Sunday, 14th February, 1790. God help me ! I am now obliged to join nity. I am deeply read in Boston State, Marshall on Sa - Trial of a saving Interest, , A Family Bible, the larger >nrf-hanuVd, for he does not o give above ten shillings for the book. 1 want likewise for myself, os you can pick them up, second-handed or cheap, copies of Olway's Dramatic W .:. , ]! u Jonson's, Dry- rn's. Congreve's, Wycherley't, Tanbrugh'n, , Colman, or Moliere, in Any other good dra- Cibber'e, or any Dramali modern — Macklin, Garrick, Fo Sheridan. A good copy o have Racii , too. I am in uo hurry for all, or any of these, hut if you accidentally meet with them very cheap, get them for me. And now, to quit the dry walk of business, how do you do, my dear friend ? and how is elegantly handsome, at least as amiable, and I am out of all pitience for one thing. Mankind instances, I do not thin! good things we chance ti us ; but we are placed i nakedness, and hunger, ai that we are under a curse in- s-.-llUhncss, in order Still there are, in eury a- ion and prudence. ] anity, it is when I c side of my dispos of follies and sins to J, and I believe I t Nothing can reconcile me to the common tie. And 1 am out of all patience to em that equivocal character, Hastings, impeached by " the Commons of England. " Teil me, my friend, is this weak prejudice ? I believe iii her independe •'.'-- , her honour ; the'illustrio'ua land," &c — I be nong your men of the World- guide for the most part and ZOV as so many m .difc ngheadednesa. They know lb - "-.•■ of bawling i ut such terms. with this vile world, issity of studj bw souls, th; ssary alloy of No. XCVI. TO MRS DUNLOP. Ellisland, 10th April, 17 BO. have just now, my ever-honoured friend b luxury, in reading a papt of the Lounger. judices. 1 had ol Spectator, Ailventu but Mill with a ce have I often said . md World: lain regicl, that they were entire)] English. Alas! ii ,i lire all the v. In. h im eountry reaps own private use, with almost all the able ilaUt- men tiiat ever existed, or now exist, when they talk of right and wrong, they only mean proper and improper ; and their measure of conduct lor the truth of this l'shall not ransack the history of nations, but appeal to one of the ablest judges of men, and himself one of the ablest men that ever lived — the celebrated Earl of Chesterfield. In fact, a man who could thoroughly control his rice- they interfered with his interest, and who could completely put on the appearance of everj virtue as often as it suited his purposes, is, on the Stanhopian plan, the perfect man ; a. man to lead nations. But are great abilities, complete without a flaw, and polished witht ut a blemish, the standard of human excellence ? nly the staunch opinion of men if orth, 1 ; but I a ■ give the Stygian doctrine a loud ue- Uowever, this must be allowed, thai, ud the grave, then, the true measure i conduct is proper an I . of I cely the import ■ large, as harmony a 3 the world a : sense of honour, like u nice ear for . thougli it may sometimes give the pos- sessor an ecstasy uukoown to the coarser organs of the herd, yet, considering the harsh gratings, and inharmonic jars, in this ill-tun, d state of being, it is odds but the individual would be as happy, and certainly would be as uch respected by the true it would then stand, without cither a good J or a good heart. You must know I have just met with the Minor and Lorr.ger for the first time, and I am quite in raptures with them: I should be glad to have your opiuion of some of the papers. The one I have juM read. lo„n s -r, No. til. has cost me more uoncst tears than anything I hove read of n long time. M'B I een called the Add-on of the Scots, and m iiion, Addison would not be hurt at the riion. It he has not Add r, he as certainly outdoes him in the sod the pathetic. ' anted in the laws of m.) I estimate ns the Brat performance . ■ r even |iie.ll~. v Immunity an, BURSS. -LETTERS. still, with all my ad of M writings, I do not Jcno vif the reading for a young ma i V7i Do not you think, mad am, tha favoured of Heaven in the str ertaiulv ";.';; be a purity, a tendernes s.adigr ; >''> ;ree, absolutely disqualifying for the truly ife. If I am not 'much mistaken, my gallanl onng friend, A , is very much undei hese disqualifications ; and for the young fe- nales of a family I could mention, well may parental j-"-*- imble friend, have as my vc mbled for i liappy —or peculiarly miserable I lately ; but as I have got the No. XCVIL FROM MR GTJNNINGHAJ El':.'.: ■gh, 25th Say, 1790. MI DEAR I am much indebted to you for y friendly, elegant epistle, and it sbaf part of the vanity of my composition, your correspondence through life. Burnet, at a time when she was in our la make It w of :•; such rirtue, should be nipt in the the smile of cheerfulness — ol bud. Her's sensibility, not of allureme How does your friendly to hear from you. I beseech you, do n I most sincerely hope all your con life prosper, and that your roof-tree ei blessing of good health. All your frie are well, among whom, and not the your acquaintance, Cleghorn. As for let a man be ; but with these I am ha No. XC1X. TO DR MOORE. Dumfries, Excise-Office, UihJuly, 1 Coming i Hot wn this morning, to a ttend my is office, it met with a ge who'teHs me his way t Lot don; s 1 I take the opportunity ■ on, as franking is a under a t arydea th. I shall h flei andbu tie, and I shall imii-.v.,- si can but let my le ..asmiscella newspape short 'a. a hungry gra ce-before- meat,or as Ion « as a la w-paperin the Douglas- ill- spelt as •s billet- mudc'er's L l , : . sightly Ls™aw7as°B t; I hope, c nsiderin- you will forgive" it ; > no esp e, I shall eflectioD about it. - -'-■ ul in not retu my thanks for your most valuable present, Dlameable for my neglect. You were pleased which so flattered me, that nothing less would rdson, and Smollet, es and merits as novel-w ity, and I may probably never bring the business to bear; but Tarn fond of the spirit young Elihu shows in the book of Job — "And I said, I will also declare my opinion. " I have quite disfigured my copy of the book with my annotations. I never take it up, without at the same time taking my pencil, and marking with asterisks, parentheses, &c. wherever I meet with an ori- a character sketched with uncommon preci- Though I shall hardly think of fairly writ- The little collect on of onnets have some hem. If indeed I am in- debted to the fair a celebrated author of the other sex, I s ateful acknowledg- ments, and my own ideas of the comparative excellence of her pi woulddo this last, not from any vanity of thinking that my re- marks could be of onsequence to Sirs Smith, but merely t author, doing as I own feelings as an roold be done by. Is there anj DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. No. XC1X. TO UBS DUNLOP. np.AK MADAM, 8M August, 1700. sit down to "write to you. X-'k me not why I No. C. TO AIR CUNNINGHAM. Elluland, 8lh August, 1 e me, my once dear, and eve my seeming negligence. You rn, and fancy Hie busy life I lead, d down my goose feather to b< crampets of attention, the brazen of integrity, I may rear up the sup. i.-.. ni'i-, ami, from it-, liarii bid d.-lianee to the storms of fate. 1 this a •' consummation devoutly U " Thy spirit. Independence, let me share ; Lord of tb, • lion heart, ami Thy steps I follow with nij ; Noi need the storm that bowls along t sky!" FROM DR ELACKLOCK. EdiiUntrgk, ]j/ September, 1790. is my dear frieud ? — much I Ungnukll ■ 1 Thej are the n. I h >ll lend it Anon to my bu; ])r Anderson gi Entangled with bus d provokes inc to speed. or less human nature m i of leisure the Muses * Whil.si ili. Howit r, 1j ui bur honey sponta- neously Hows. As fragrantly smells, and as vig'rously gram. And add, your promotion is here understood ; You then, more at leisure, and f control, May indulge the strong passion that >' languid my thuiighl * The preceding l.-tl. r txpl dor which this was written. The strum of indignant iurectiva goes an ■ me lime longer in the style which our bnrd was loo apt to iii- luu alreiui, BURNS LETTERS. FROM \ir cu NNINGHAM. Edi nburgh, Uth October, 1 7S0 lately receiv >d a le ter from our ft ciety— born t orals, his fate' ill 1 am persu a pure s been hard in s happy ; not th< illant, the gay Lothario , tut in the bin T-- xed with regre "thed I saw Mr Dunbar put of ur newspaper, Mr Vi < od'sPoem on m- This poem has ww which you alone are capable to execute :— a long adapted to . aJ: , K u,v.\ ■ t the year. Ths task is difficult, but the theme is charming: should you succeed, I will undertake to gel new music worthy of the subject. What a tine field for your imagination, and who is a thirs country.' so is got sorrow which I have received. In this in- stance I most cordially obey the apostle — to s»ig tor joy is no new thing ; but to preach I read your letter— I literally jumped ft poet, lumpishly keep his seat on the recei[ my gilt-headed Wangee rod, an instrumei L-idispeusably necessary, in my left hand, i the moment of inspiration and rapture; an amongtheli h, to muse ove mv jcj ly retail. To keep within the bounds of prose was impossible. rVrs Little's is a verses. See the poem— On the Birth of a Pott- humous Child. I am much flattered by your approbation ol your former letter, though, by the bye, you , hurrying on to the guilty o plead, riots nightly ivines may say of il ,ed by their n ap oo. No. CVL FROM A. F. TYTLER, ES<}. Ediniurga, lith March, 1 .terday put into my hands 71-1. Mr 11,11 j( yours, entiUed Tom o' Stealer, a tal'e. 11. mtv high pleasure I have received from tie pi ni5.il ol iliii admirahle piece, I feel, demands ihc warmest acknowledgments. Hill tells u.e ho is to send oft' a packet for you this day ; 1 ennnot resist therefore putting on paper what 1 must have told you in person, had I met with vou after the recent perusal of your tale, which is, that 1 fed 1 owe you a debt, which. if undischarged, would reproach me wilh in- gratitude. I have seldom in my life tasted of higher enjoyment from any work of genius, than 1 have received from this composition ; and I am much mistaken, if this poem alone, bad you niver written another syllable, would not have been sufficient to have transmitted your name down to posterity with high repu- tation. In the introductory pari. I Eninl the character of your hero, and exhibit iin at the ■ I I tippling cronies, you have delineated nature with a humour and /....rid, that would do Matthew Prior; but when you di unfortunate orgies of the w'lteh - and the hellish sei uei j in which they are ex- hibited, you displnv a power of imagination, that Shakspeure himself could i. . . ..ow not that 1 h.iv wiih a picture of inure horrible fancy than the following : And b, , his c.iuld bund Ink : had manjrled, •y Antra re/ iflK osed, , after the two following lir o' horrible and awfu',"&c. the 1 the it themselves, yet as they derive all their merit from the satire" they con- tain, are here rather misplaced among the cir- :umstances of pure horror.* The initiatior .f the young witch is most happily ' —LETTERS. ' IS 5, trophe, for the reason you justly adduce --* " sily be remedied. Your approbati :eed, persevere in this species of poetic compositi in my fancy. If I can bring these float ideas to bear any kind of embodied form effect of her charm: tnce, on Satan himsel Ah, little thought thy r< eii,' era and enters completely into the spirit of the scene, are all features of high merit, in this excellent composition. The only fault it pos- of the story, is not commensurate to the inter- characteristic painting of the preceding parts. —The preparation is fine, but the result is not adequate. But for this, perhaps, yon have a good apology —you stick to the popular tale. And now that I have got out my mind, and feel a little relieved of the weight of that debt 1 owed you, let me end this desultory scroll by a species of composition, in which but a very —write more tales in the same style ; you will eclipse Prior and La Fontaine ; for, with equal wit, equal power of numbers, and equal naivete of expression, you have a bolder, and more vigorous imagination. I am, dear Sir, with much esteem, No. CV1I. TO A. F. T^TLER, ESQ. rateful acknowledgmt tempt ; to have that poem so much applaudec by one of the first judges, was the most delici sublunary state, thought proper to check my exultation by a very serious misfortune. A day or two after I received vour letter, mv do more than just in general terms to thanl m for this additional instance of your patron- ;e and friendship. As to the faults you No. CVIII. TO MRS DUNLOP. Ellisland, 7th February, 1791. "When I fell yon, madam, that by a fall, no from my horse, but with my horse, I have beei a cripple some time, and that this is the firs me in writing ; you will allow that it is toi good an apology for my seemingly ungratefu to rhyme a little, which implies some tolerabb farther than the following fragment, of which please let me have your opinion. You know that elegy is a subject so much exhausted, that pected ; 'tis well if we can place an old idea in a new light. How far I have succeeded as to this last, yon will judge from what follows : — (Here follows Ike Elegy, fyc. adding this verse.) The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, [ have proceeded no further. Your kind letter, with your kind remem- rance of your god-son, came safe. This last, - -- lity apart, drooping head, ith a good df d of difficulty. When ihall hear farther from Madam, youn PIAMO.NI) CABINET LIBRARY. TO LADY W. M. I ACKNOWLEDGING A PRESENT oy A VAL1 Laving lately broken my right ladyship's elegant [.resent Ly .'Sri .Miller, from returning you my warmest and most grateful a;knowledgroents. I assure your ladyship, I shall set it apart; the symbols of religion shall only be more sacred. In the moment of poetic composition, the bos shall be my inspiring genius. When I would breathe the compre- hensive v.i»h of benevolence for the happiness of others, I shall recollect your ladyship ; when No. CX. MRS GRAHAM OF FINTRY. er it is that the story of onr of Scots, has a peculiar effect c s of a poet, or whether I have, d ballad, succeeded bevond my ctilarly to you. It is true, the purity of or, motives may be suspected. I am already deeply indebted to Mr G 's goodness; and, what in the usual ways of nun, is of infi- mj poverty ; and without any fustian affectation of .-pint, 1 run promise and affirm, that it must be no or. u u pari .'i bun they ever be those of a gencro mind I It is dc Hut I was born to dependent FROM THE BEY. G. BAIRM. sik, Aon/Jon, 6th February, J79]. I trouble you with this letter, to inform joa talked of) of Michael Brua's Pocnu° The profits of the edition are to go to his mother— a woman of eighty years of age — poor and helpless. The poems are tr ' - ■ •, lthin to make out a 2s. 6d. or I assistance of a few hitherto unpublished ver which I have got from the mother of the ixious to guard against tarnishing his character, b] -c, tin-" ass. 1 am .-" of, have Lecu submitted to the re\ision of some mean still to submit them to others. fliay I beg to know, therefore, if you will take the trouble of perusing the J'/Jb.-ti giving your opinion, and suggesting what cur- to you as advisabl. ? And will you allow us I know the eitent of this request It is bold to make it. But 1 haie this consolation, yon see it proper to i will see my apology in the motive. May Ijust add, that Michael Bruce is one in whose company, from his past appearance, you would not, 1 am convinced, blush to be found; mil as I would submit every line of Ins thai should now be published, to your own criticisms, you w u uld be assured that nothing din.- ilnry either to him or you, would be ad- mitted in that appearance he may make iu You have already paid an honourable tri- ne t.i kindred g. mils in Fergussou_l fondly ipe that the mother of Bruce will cxperieuce your patronage. I wish to have the subscription papers cir- culated by the ] 1th of March, Bruce 's birth- 'ay; which, I understand, some friends in cil.ind l.ilk this year of observing -at that me it will be resolved, I imagine, to place a . lain, humble stone over his grave. This, at least, 1 trust you will agree to do— to furuish, ta, an inscription for it. On those points may 1 solicit an early as possible; a short delay might disap- poinl us iu procuring lb l i which is lb. You will be pleased lo address for me under mi, lu the liukeof Athole, London. P. B. i' i : I KURNS LETTERS. No. CXII. TO TEE REV. G. EAIRD, IX ANSWER TO Why did you, my dea: a hesitating style, - E FOREGOING- . ._'tIknow, and have I not felt the many ills, the peculiar ills thai is heir to ? You shall have your choice of a the unpublished poems I have ; and had you letter had my direction so as to have reache me sooner (it only came to my hand this mc ment), I should have directly put you out < suspense on the subject. 1 ouly^ask^tm I clubbed a s are in th motives. Nc ny remarkable %uch a flings, follies, and backs myself might J erhaps gh se appellation llowever triflin j, irAheL any good 1 at occurs No. csin. TO DR MOORE. Ellidand, 2S(A February, 1T91. I do not know, sir, whether you are a sub- scriber to Grose's Antiquities of Scotland. li you are, the inclosed poem will not be altoge- the principal end I h: :n copies of the proof- this is one. Should you have before, still this will answer nity of thanking you fol still employed in the way y friends after they have pas "Whether, after all, either be of any real service to t very problematical ; but highly gratifying to the In orthodox test, I forget v sfjs, "whatsoever is no siety,. and is of positive uijojmcnt, is of God, he giver of all good things, and ought to be ■eceived and enjoyed by his creatures with mistress, who is gone to the world of spirits. The ballad on Queen Mary was begun while I was busy nith Percy's Reliques of English Poetry. By the way, how much is every honest heart, which has a tincture of Caledo- nian prejudice., obliged to you for your glorious story of Buchanan and Targe. 'Twas an un- equivocal proof of your loyal gallantry of soul, giving Targe the vieu.-v.' I 5 Uv.id have been mortified to the ground if you had not. I have just read over, once more, of many- times, your Zeluco. I marked with my pencil, I am disposed to think unequal to the merits of scribe these marked passages, or at least so much of them as to point where they are, and send them to you. Original strokes that strong- ly depict the human heart, is your and Field- ing's province, beyond any other novelist I perhaps be excepted ; but, unhappily, his world ; and however they may captivate the unexperienced, romantic fancy of a boy or a girl, they will ever, in proportion as we have made human nature our study, dissatisfy our a mighty tax-gatherer before the Lord," and have lately had the interest to get myself rcnk- =hali fall into the file o ieath of the Earl cf Glei.cairn ; the patron rom whom all my fame and good fortune took its rise. Independent of my grateful attach- ment to him, which was indeed so strong that t pervaded my very soul, and was entwined in the excis ness than otherwise it will be. Though fhi thank Heaven, I can live^/d rhymers I'am and as to my boys, poor little fellows I if i life as I could wish, I shallf if I am favourec so much of the Disposer of events as to sei that period, fix them on as broad and indepen , ,/ in o' the gentry. But I am got on a subject, which, however quence to you ; so I shall give you a short poem on the other page, and close this with assuring ycu how sincerely I have the honour presented lo a >m jot of The Rotc-lud. No. CXIV. FROM DB MOORE. BBARSIB, Lcndon, 20!h March. 1791. ■^ ant letter of the 28th of February 1 received only two days ago, and this day I had the plei-ure of waiting on the Her. Mr Baird, at the Duke of Athole's, who had been so oblig- ver»es on Mi, u ty ('.;,, , tlie K'egy on CapL Henderson, and the A'pi'.'apn. There are many poetical beauties in the former: what I parti- cularly admire ore the three striking similes " Or like ike snow falls in the ri.tr, and the eight lines which begin with " By this time he was cross the ford ;" to exquisitely expressive of the superstitious •' Coffius stood round like open presses, - which, in my opinion, are equal lo the ingie- DIAMOND CABINB1 LIBRARY. rhich I Mil A- fo li the v. ie Efegj nhel derfulU pleasing, in the Epitaph. I remember you once hinted before you repeat in jour last, that you had made some remarks on Zvluco, on the margin. I should be rerjj glad to see them, and regret too did not send ili.ui before the last edition, which is jusl published. Pray transcribe them for me, sincerely I value your opinion very highly, and pray do not suppress one of those in which . the sentiment nl etween us— I am not akin to the Bishop of (Jieunda. mind for some lime: I cannot help thinking ■ natural to I friends, particularly subject, but this ought lo be .lone under promi- SUE Ifyoucbs lop of Dun] membered to roold hare joe ription: io pro-. j. elf with plea- impositiona, I wish you n English. You hare in Scottish sufficiently. urite to my friend Mrs Duo. She must not judge of the :o (ell you that when jtfj subscriptions- I wish I coul hours' conversation with jou- tbings to sav which I canoot wi go to Scotland, I will let you k 9 make a No. L\V. TO THE REV. ARC1IU. ALISON. Elluland, near Dumfries, UlA Feb. 1791. ie of I hen, t, I,-, u •men. VouJ.Ji,: ' , as acknowledged Ihe receipt of it. you yourself are to blame for it. Fluttered »> 1 "was by your telling roe that you wished Is h.m my opinion of the work, the old spiritual BM my of in injrind, who knows well lliat vanity it one of the sins that most esaill il into my head lo ponder over the pcrforiuaiic. with the look-out uf a critic, and to draw u( forsooth a deep learned digest of stricture* or I lid not even know the tir.t pun- 1 on ii. sir, that at tirst glance, scleral ; .. sitions startled me as paradoxical. That the martial clangor of a trumpet hat something in it ^asll\ more grand, heroic, and sublime, than the twingle twaugh . hurp ; that the delicate flexure of ■ i when ihe hall-blown tl.. Iraulil'ill i lun Ihe upright stub of a burdock ; and lhal from something innate and indepen- dent of all association of Ideas •— these I bad . orthodox truths, until i took .hook SB] faith. Cometr,,. I m) father's ■ BURN S LETTER S. eon I held the plough, I never read a book v. b cfa gave me such a quantum of information, and added so mnch to my stock of ideas as jour "Essays on the Principles of Taste." the language. To clothe abstract in elegance of style, sounds something like a contradiction in terms ; but you have convinced I inclose you some poetic bagatelles of my TO SIR CUNNINGHAM. 12th March, 1791. If the foregoing piece be worth your strictures, that I have just composed, always appears through a double portion of that partial medium in which an author will ever view his own works. I believe, in general, novelty has something in it that inebriates the fancy, and not unfrequently dissipates and fumes a v. ay like as usual, with an aching heart. A striking in- lion of many a hymeneal honeymoon. But lest I sink into stupid prose, and so sa intrude on the office of my parish priest, I shall £11 up the page in my own way, and give you well as the former. You must kiow a beautiful Jacobite air. There'll never be peace till Jamie comes home. "When political combustion ceases to be the ob- ject of princes and patriots, it then, you know, becomes the lawful prey of historians and The church is Delusions, op; We dare na y friend, how much you would oblige me, if, by the charms of your delightful voice, you would give my honest effusion to " the memory of joys that are past, " to the few friends whom you indulge in that pleasure. But I have scribbled on till I hear the clock has inlimaud the near approach of "That hour o' night's black arch the key. So good-night to you ! Sound be your sleep and delectable your dreams ! Apropos, how do you like this thought in a ballad, I have just now on the tapis ? i look to the west, when I gae to rest, That happy my dreams and my slumbers 1 that is dear to my baby and me '. at, once more, and God bless you ! No. CXVII. TO MRS DUNLOP. Ellislatid, Uth April, 1791. rer be peace till Jamie comes han \ sweet heart o' my faithfu' auld rer be peace till Jamie comes hame. a burden (hat bows me down, ri Of VI r friendship, ever, life is chequered- joy and sorrow— for on present of a fine boy ; rather stouter but not so handsome as your god-son was at his time of life. Indeed I look on your little namesake to be my chef d'ceuvre in that species of manu- facture, as 1 look on Tarn o' Shanter to be my a spice of rognish waggery, that might, per- haps, be as well spared ; tut then they all so show, in my opinion, a force of genius, and a finishing polish, that I despair of ever excell- laid as lustily about her to-day at breakfast, as a reaper from the corn-ridge. That is the pe- sprightly damsels, that are Ired among the hay and heather. We cannot hope for that highly polished mind, that charming delicacy world in the more elevated stations of life, and ■tainly by far the n of Venus. It is re, that nly puri- n be had in its native heave ed by some one or other of ly shades of affectation, and unalloyed by ■r of Hi any spec ly good ! But as thTs^ngeli/creature of life, and totally denied to such a - the next rank of female e: " and facf of life whatever DIAMOND CABINET LIBRAKV. modesty, and unsullied p r-wit, and the rudimei.1 icity of 60ul, unsuspicioi ■mule for a feiiov lomiliatiug advice. O to le I , stalking in the pride of Lis id mid tbe solitary wild? of bis cV»- an in civilized life, helplessly n subsistence, precarious as tbe ca- re! Every m beallhy frame, a soul hich your high rani i enjoy, are the charn Do, let me No. CXYIII. TO MR CUNNINGHAM. severely under the . powerful individuals accused of barshnes; God help the teacher, by father pre- my frieud Clarke, when a 1 teals him with his booby so head, whose skull is imperrii ible by any other way than a with a cudgel : a fellow whoi vours of impiety to attempt r of, as he has been marked a book of fate, at tbe almi Creator. The palrons of Moffat scho< among the magistracy and ;larly, yon have much to say with a reve- t with, 1 n is without bis failings ; jrse on that privileged plain-dealing of ship, which in the hour of my calamity, t reach forth the helping hand without "at liouing them their share in procuring my present distress. My friends, for such the orld calls ye, and such ye think yourselves to !, pass by virtues if you please, tut do, also, spare my follies : the first will witness in my Dough to the ingenuous mind without And since deviating more or less from hs of propriety and rectitude, must le it to human nature, do thou, fortune, in my power, always from myself, and of myself, to bear the consequences of those '- ' do not want to be independent thai but I want to be independent in niy bling letter to the 6ub- itles him to the one, nd his gratitude will merit the other. I >ng much to hear from you. Adieu. No. CXIX. FROM THE EARL OF BUCHAN. f September ; for which day perhaps his musi Suppose Mr Burns should, leaving the Nib, o across the country, and meet the Tweed a^ be nearest point from his farm — and, wan ering along the pastoral banks of 'Ihonisou': ure parent stream, catch inspiration on th< evious walk, till he finds Lord Buchan sitting n the ruius of Dryburgh. There the com- lendator will give him a hearty welcome, one y to light his lamp at the pure flame of natix miiis, upon the altar of Caledonian virtue. J perambulation of the . thought of tbe late Mr llilborl Elliot's and ..I LorU Mini ed grandson. •a, fllo e pr.si Charles V. • 1 tell him, through '.he .n Jium with Lord Buchan lately, the of his nephew's influence, that Mr Clarko is a renewed, and will, they hope, i< gentleman who will not disgrace even his pa- executed in the manner proposed. tronage. I know the merits of the cause lb. roughly, nnd say it, th.it my friend is fall- iug a sacrifice lo prejudiced ignorance, and God help the children of de- ll , i.. 1 mid persecute; by their eue- and reproach, under the thin disguise of cold TO THE EARL OF 1(1 CHAM MY IORD nks under ihc ardour . 1 » Pi Robul linghnm. t, I much doubt, I dar< Your lordship hints at an ode for the occa sion : but who would write after Collins ? : read over his verses to the memory of Thomson three or four stanzas, in the way of address b I shall trouble your lordship with thesubjoinei copy of them, which, I am afraid, will be bu tOO k C0n H nCing a P - r °° f h °d W Uaeqaal l am t0 '- h how sincerely and gratefully I have the honou No. CXXL FROM THE SAME. Dryburgh Abbey, 18th September, 1791. weU received by the public : and though I should disapprove of your allowing Pegasus to ride with you oif the field of your honourable and useful profession, yet I cannot resist an to'vour 6 muse, Harvest Horn.; as all t for her grateful song, in which the peculiar aspec: 3 of Scotland, for th< happy moments of leisure and recess, from your more important occupations. Your Ha'' il , , au - ' - A \ will native country, and were happily written in the dialect of the people ; but Harvest Home being suited to aescriptive poetry, except where colloquial, may escape the disguise of a dialect which admits of no elegance or dignity of expression. Without the assistance of any .in muse, you may convey in epistolary form the description of a scene so gladdening and picturesque, with all the concomitant trasting the peace, improvement, and happiness of the borders of the once hostile nations of Britain, with their former oppression and misery, and showing, in lively and beautiful colours, the beauties and joys of a rural life. And as the unvitiated heart is naturally dis- of prosperity, such a subject would furnish you the names of nd your other eminent benefactors ; which, from what I f your sp«-i poems and letters, will u LETTERS. - tity of praise No. CXXII. TO LADY E. CUNNINGHAM. I would, as usual, have availed myself of the privilege your goodness has allowed me, of sending you any thing I compose in my poeti- shock of my irreparable loss would allow me, mined to make that the first piece I should do myself the honour of sending you. Had the wing of my fancy been equal to the ardour of w'.rtb;, jour perusal ; as it is, I beg leave to lay it at your ladyship's feet. As all the world knows my obligations to the late Earl of Glencairn, I would wish to show as openly that my heart glows, aud shall ever glow, with the most grateful sense and remembrance of his lordship's goodness. The sables I did myself the honour to wear to his lordship's Nor shall my gratitude perish with me :- If, among my children, I shall have a son that has a heart, he shall hand it down to his child t to say, my lady, that if you No. CXXIIL TO MR AINSLIE. lind diseased ? Can >f nenitence, regret, and all the rest f the hounds of hell, tl . rretch, who has been guilty of the sin of roubled soul ? Miserable perdu that I am, I have tried every :k of the clock as it slowly—slowly n these lazy scoundrels of hours, dty me. My wife scolds n DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. re bitter la] flten 1 tell jou even . . Las lost its power to please, you will gue; something, of my hell within, and all aroun me I began Elibanks end EjibracF, but d 1 by the date, it had lain for some -have answered it immediately on receiving but the truth was, the bustle of boaineas, ;ajrements and confusion of one kind or an- ter, in which I found myself immersed all : of my power. But to have done with apo- ies, let me now endeavour to prove myself some degree deserving of the very flattering npliment you pay me, by giving you at least deal did, A il should not Le a judi- itfeis, in my opinion, ly excellent. The old tradition which >,,,. fe taken up is (he best adapted for a Baccha- ian composition of any I have ever met with, 1 you have done it full justice. In the first . ice, the strokes if v, it arise naturally from the subject, and are uncommonly happy. For " The bands grew the tighter the more they "Cynthia hinted she'd find them next No. CXXIV. FROM SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD. Near Maybole, 16/A OcJo&er, 1791. Accept of my thanks for your favour with lb friend, and your worthy patron, the perusal c ,cf> igularly happy in oes, anJu.^n :,: S ind language suitable to . And, lastly, you have much delicacy of the panegyric which itrived to throw on each of the S07ierate our grief for 1 ; knowing that he ! JOHN WHITEb'UOKD. No. CXXV. FROM A. F. TYTLER, ESI}. Edinburgh, 27th Nov. 17!*] ; rather than that your poem of the sain. .position. It is that it speaks the language ruth and of nature. The elnn^e .-, in n.y .ion, injudicious loo in this respect, that an ( bard has much less need of a patron and lector than a J/OtOlg one. 1 have thu: :.i\ en ItURNS LETTERS. . Had I a lan my genuine senti- pieasure to hear from ire, and I beg jou will No. CXXVL TO MISS DAV1ES. It is impossible, madam, that the generous warmth and angelic purity of ye under which I unhappily must rank as the ed, a lethargy of con- : snakes ; beneath the aed into the torpor of a the subject of a silly h: ]"'. : ght mocke y of these ardent feel- t to a dying friend. Gracious Heaven why this disparity he- tween our wishes an rs ? Why is the most others blest, and ineffee es the pathl In my walks of life 1 h a few people to whom how gladly would 1 1 s G ha-e e been py! I k wounded by the scon placed abo v. L ;Vj i.l aps, placed many of the comforts rock, Ind ependence, and look ju eness of so nl. Make tl-vl±,ll- U digna.ion, and the fool- ish sink b happiness lo bestow Why, ke from this nd find it all a dream" ? rous enthu. find'myse f poor and powerless, incapable of the sons', and even the daughters of men! -1 He falls Down, immediately, should go fools from the hijfh places where misbegotten chance has In the field Our kine cance, as the body marches accompanied by While vie its shadow. As for a much more formidable class, the knaves 9 I am at a loss what to do with 0, who rally fil Still the ineqi land that could give I woi ind I would pour delight juld kindly forgive, and gei ierable — but there is a distinctions of 'fortune". ' WoLfii IsTh'j royal of life : let there be slight degrees eedency among them— but let them be all L Whether this last sentiment be righi inponent feature of my mind. No. CXXYII. TO MRS DUNLOP. Ellisla, Lnks to yc pecting CL [Other-plant. I hope my poetic p :en heard, and will be answeret armest sincerity of their fullest ( Scene, — Afield of battle— lime of the day, even- ing — (he i; the victorious army are supposed to join in the following SONG OF DEATH. Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and Now gay with the broad setting sun ; Thou grim king of te HAM0N15 CABINET LIURAKY. re rise to the fore. friend, M'Donald's collection of Highland airs ; I was struck with one, an Isle of Skjf tune, entitled Oran an Aoic;, or, The Song of Death, to the measure of which 1 have adapts ' N . CXXVIII. TO 1\ RS DUNLOP Slh Janua ry, 1 r92. a' my hurri d life, madam I , I I n only :,! T ". i'i • tirnl.ni r e fo C r 0r t r he P Bo d a e r ^ t Com- Alas ! how little do the wantonly or Dumfries, 22d January, 17D2. I sit down, mv dear Sir, to introduce a your-.? lady to jou, and a lady in the first ranks of fashion loo. Whatata-k! tojou-who no more for the herd e.f animals called y. ladies, than you do for the herd of anil called young gentlemen. To you — n lie spise and detest the groupings and com! e dimmest shades. Mrs Riddel ethis leter to to»n with her an I, is a character that, even in you s a naturalist and a philosopher she begged to be known to yc going lo pay her tirst vimi i friend, Craigdarroch, to liav ily West ad\'» nu-rits, she lias one uniuekj failing, failing which "■". r '. as sh « you, my dear friend, and 1,1 tlest and sincere,.! of jourfr good' things attend you an, tliey are scattered over the en et of it, than you with the No. CXXX. TO MS W- NICOL. 20th February, 1799. O thou, wisest among the wise, meridian blaze of prudence, full moon of discretion, a, . I eh, .i of many counsellors I How infinitely is i!n puddle-headed, lattle-headed, wrong-head- BVRNS — LETTERS. 149 ed, round-headed slave indebted to thy super- eminent goodness, that from the luminous path of thy own right-lined rectitude, thou lookfet li,-:- z i zas wanderings defy all the powers of calculation", from the simple copulation of units, up to the hidden mysteries of fluxions ! May [worthy of the fac :-r of n: antipode of folly, and _ the wise and witty Willie Nicol! Amen! Amen! Yea, so be it! For me ! I am a beast, a reptile, and know amid the fogs of my dulness, and pi fumes of my political heresies I look up to thee ; as doth a toad throush the iron-tarred lucerne of a pestiferous dungeon, to the cloudless glory of a summer sun! Sorely sighing in bitterness of delight of the goal v, like 'the illustrious lord of Laggan's many hills V* As for him, his works t own with too much appearance of truth. ios, do you know the much admired ighland air called The Sldpr's Dcchler 1 l first-rate favourite of mine, and I have . will send it to you as it "was sung with Major Robertson of Lude, who was here wilt There is one commission that I must trouble much. I have gotten one'cf your Highland pebbles, which 1 fancy would make a very de- cent one; and I want to cut my armorial bearing on it; will you be so obliging as in- culat'ed, as the heralds call it, at ail ; but I have invented arms for rmself, so you know I shall be chief of the name; and by courtesy ot e fr.ir ,1 the L hatred fly at his dwelli Thon mirror of purity, when shall the elfine from sensual appetites and gross desires, shir like the constellation of thy intellectual power: — As for thee, thy thoughts are pure, and tl lips are holy. Never did the unhallowt breath of the powers of darkness, and tl pleasures of darkness, pollute the sacred flan of thy sky -descended and heaven-bound desire; O that e the tenor of n ah aid. —May thy pity and thy prayer be exer cised for, O thou lamp of wisdom and mirro of morality 1 thy devoted slave, f the colours, a wood-lark perching on a sprig of the top of the crest, lYooa-notes wild. At the bottom of ihe shield, in the usual place, Belter a wee bitsh than nae bieid. By the shepherd's pipe and crook I do not mean the nonssn^e of Arcadia 5 but a Slocked Horn, and a Club, such as you see at the head of Allan tie Shepherd. By the bye, do vou know Allan ? He must be a man of very great genius. "Why is he not more known ? Has he no patrons ? or do " Poverty's cold wind and crushing rain beat keen and heavy" on him? I once, cght it; tut I was raid No. CXXXL I have no reason to "imagine my soul a noLier one than any other man's, I must conclude that TO MR CUNNINGHAM. sessor, at which the man, in his native poverty, 3d March, 17£2. would have revolted. What has led me to th.s.is Since I wrote to "you the last lugubrious sheet, the idea of such merit as Mr Allan pcssesste.and I have not had lime to write vou farther. "When I say that I had not time, that, as usu- -. and why thej do not form a muiual al, means, that the three demons, indolence, league. Let wealth shelter and cherish unpro- business) and ennui, have so completely shared tected merit, and the gratitude and celebrity cf that merit yyill richly repay it. Thank heaven, I feel my spirits buoying up- in good earnest take up Thomson's songs. I No. C5XXEL dare say he thinks I have used him unkindly, and TO MRS DTJNLOP. * Mr Nicol. Annan Water Foot, 22d August, 1792. T This strain of irony was excited by a letter cf Mr Nicol'si containing good advice. science, hacknied and weaiher-beaun as it is, DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. in watching and reproving my vagar lies, indolence, &c has continued t< and punish me sufficiently. addition, that «< Do you think i «, lost to gra titude for many fa ■worth, and to the honest, kind, pleasurable t sure, of prog) ssive inci ' _ friendship— ai the Fates°what they are doing and about to c ■with my much loved friend and her wide sea tered connexions, and to beg of them to be : kind to you and yours as they possibly can ? Apropos, (though how it is apropos, I ha' --'- : n0 do yon fcr-~ •< HUmo7trsaidI- head and ears, dee abyss of the bouni Love, owing to me mu good and the bad, the pun an acquaint > as the „rny or ;.u:';. li- the coarse, polluted, far inferior sons of men, to deliver to them tidings that make their hearts swim in joy, and their imaginations soar in transport — such, so delighting, and so pure, other day with Miss L — B — , your neighbour at M Mr B. with his two daughters, accompanied by Mr H. of G. passing through Dumfries a few days ago, on their way to England, did me the honour of calling on me ; on which I took my horse (though God knows I could ill spare the time), and accom. panied them fourteen or fifteen miles, and dined and spent the day with them. 'Twas about nine, I think, when I left them ; and riding home, I composed the following ballad, of which you will probably think you have a old ballad beginning with " My bonnie Lizzie Baillie, ling it has many good things i lect that Solonx logue of the mi! lieve that there i ies, with this endear! times have I made this apos- as ever thought fit to answer the O that some courteous ghost ;nd, must make the experiment and for ourselves. However, inced that an unshaken faith in of religion is not only necessary, better men, but also by making en, that I shall take every care e god-son, and e' , shall bi aught i ends this heterogeneous 1 wild place of the world, it my labour of discharging a *e o the sacred purity of m :hment. Know then, that the heart-si >, the distant humble approach, the delight s should have in gazing upon and liste ' a Messenger of Heaven, appearing in al No. CXXXIII. TO MR CUNNINGHAM. Dumfries, 10ZA September, 1 will net attempt an apology — Ai ns, and singing them ; and, o\ all, the correcting the press-work different publications ; still, stiU I migl tolen five minutes to dedicate to one irst of my friends and fellow-creatu night have '— a page or t< might have thanked for the honour they h; do myself justice, I Loth in rhyme, else I now). Well, then, health ! for you must perkin of toddy by rr ; time of night, '—and 1 his marriage ; or I te Caledonian archers e done me (though to just by way of spell, nightly uanuealed," as . ; LuI said," What" 5ver°thou F makest thyself vi le by the eerie side of an aiuu mum, m reary glen through which the herd callau ;! Be thou a brownie, set, at dead of _ , to thy task by the blazing ingle, or in the solitary born where the repercussions of " il half affright thjself, as thon per- le roaring of the flood, as thou BURNS LETTERS. Jr, lastly, be thou a ghost, paying thy uoctu lal visits to the hoary ruins of decayed grai ieur; or performing thy mystic rites in tl ihadow of thy time-worn church, while tl d Deity ! — Come, thou spiri who is quite jaded in the attempt to share half an idea among half a hundred words ; to nT — four quarto pages, while he has not got single sentence of recollection, information Lours with Nonsense No. name ! Tulor, friend, and mystic mazes of law; the c: and Truth creeping hi o, leaving Common se, Religious Nonsei Only, byVe bye, will or any other of your Scui..= u ding, display in my plough-boy days, I could not conceive it possible that a noble lord could be a fool, or a as Fortune, Connexions, Education, (I education extraordinary,) Family Blood, &c. divide the f o iui.,;, agrees among ons, for there is not any one of 'them, in for the rest of my fancies and reveries— t lately met with Miss L B , nost beauiiful, elegant woman in the I- how I accompanied her and her father's family fifteen miles on their journey, e works of God, in such an unequalled ty of ihem_how, iu ealloping home at , I made a baiiad on her, of v,hich these He'd ^ 'ca£ "^ngthee." ehold all these s of my hee, my use, my o thing c-ar 1 ar friend, ten in the d shall be ':='\ ipanion, forth by cuirlit fc e L-i-.e thy befo n the prec !he moo e-designed ous things DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. No. CXXXIV. TO MRS DUNLOP. Dumfries, 24th September, 1792. 11 :•'■■< lnno, convulsed with every horror th; harrow the human feelings— sick— lo< longing for a comforter, but finding i cannot say that 1 give him joy of his life as : farmer. 'Tis, as a farmer paying a dear, nscionable rent, a cursed life I As to ■ in- his own corn in°hope; brittle weather, in gladness ; knowing that none can say unto him, "what dobt thon?" --fattening his herds; shearing his flocks; rejoicing at Christmas; and begetting rated, e Ine! I nother m fell, your I :ind wishes will be gratified, a months' race is run, which may, perhaps, be i three or four weeks. She, too, seems deter mined to make me the patriarchal leader of band. However, if Heaven will be so obligin. plea ) one girl, I shall bt _ d. I hope, if I am spared with them w a set of boys that will do honour to m; F rearing girls. Besides, I am too poor 1 a fortune. Apropos le god-sc is thru inglj. » He, though two years has completely mastered his brother. I indeed the mildest, gentlest crea- :rsaw. He has a most surprising and is quite the pride of his school- tow how readily we get into prattle TO MRS DUNLOP. n TO HAVE BKEN WRITTEN your letter until my return th What shall I say to comfort you valued, much-afflicted friend! I "can but - til lidreiL of affliction I J pi-oee Alas, madam ! who would wish for many ears ? What is it but to drag existence until ur joys gradually expire and leave us in a iglu of misery ; like the gloom which blots ut the stars one by one, from the face of ight, and leaves us, without a ray of comfort, I am interrupted, and must leave off. You No. CXXXVI. TO MRS DUNLOP. Dumfries, 6th Deceviber, 1792. I shall be in Ayrshire, I think, next week ; and if at all possible, I shall certainly, my much-esteemed friend, have the pleasure of visiting at Dunlop-house. Alas, madam ! how seldom do wemeetinthis world, that we have reason to congratulate our- passed half the ordinary term of an old man's life, and yet I scarcely look over the obituary of a newspaper, that I do not 6ee some names that I have known, and which I, and other acquaintances, little thought to meet with mortality of our kind, makes us cast an anxious look into the dreadful abyss of uncertainty, and shudder with apprehensions for our own fate. A few n the < >, I could h; of the m these most helpless individuals, would, on losing me and my exertions, lose both their "staff and shield." By the way, these helpless ones have lately got an addition ; Mrs B. having given me a fine girl since I wrote you. There is a charming passage in Thomson's Edward and Elcanoru, BURNS LETTERS. As I am got in the way of quotations, I shall Amid this mighty fuss give you another from the same piece, pecu- The Mights of Woman liarly, alas, too peculiarly apposite, my dear : madam, to your present frame of mind : First, in the sexes' i ! One sacred Eight of V " "Who so unworthy but may proudly deck The tender flower that rough winds rage aloud J ggle of this t: And offices . With all i in for double postage, so I shall pLV^Hou' deed, Heaven ? dom. Inde on ourselves ms of the r in spirit, c y humble' to gag me. V, you will find ou ?withou P t r an a nter^ I have taken up the snbje tinanothe and the other day, for a pretty actress's bene) yon on the other page, called The Riglds of Woman. THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN. Helpless, must fall before the blast of fate Sunk to the earth, defaced its lovely form, shelter ward tu' impel Our second Right — but needles To keep that right inv Mate's the fasl "--"- man of sense has it so full befoi die befors iVow, well-bred men— and you ar Most justly think (and we are gainers) For Sight the third, our last, ou That right to 'fluttering female Which even the Rights of Kings ir Most humbly own — 'tis dear, dear i rher< life of HI Smiles, glances, sighs, With bloody armaments and revolutions ; Ah ! ca ira I The Majesty of Woman ! No. cxxxvir. TO MISS B , OF YORK. MADAM, 2 lit March, 179J allusion to the saturnalia of the charming long prospect of , meetings with them in af ww, iu this shor ^ fleeting existence; i the Chapter of A. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRAKY. ij hap- • in him an irresistibh when you now and then, the miseries belonging to it, that if then "ou despis™ the ill run of the.chancess so against you, that in the overtakings lucky corner etenially comes the wretcl you, and will not allow your indigna to be the doings of that old aulhor of mi ii, j y.i ■ '' ,' = ''is'^!l_T'liow J m S uch T admired'he'r foi d her w -a*™ '^"de^r^aam'TtTs" entertain no hopes of the very great pleasure of meeting with you again. Miss H tells me that she is sendine a packet to yc ough, t I jou may have an opportunity of declaring with how much respectful esteem 1 have the honour No. CXXXVIII. TO MISS C MADAM, August, 1793. Some rather unlooked-for accidents have pre- vented my doing myself the honour of a second visit to Arbiegland, as I was so hospitably in. However, I still hope to have that pleasure be- I inclose you two of my late pieces, as some Kind return for the pleasure I have received in perusing a certain MS. volume of poems in the possession of Captain Riddel. To repay one with an old song, is a proverb, whose force you , of illustrious descent is, I believe, equally true of a talent for poetry; nc" - •s of tl : fates lislead him from tl se him with a keen, ; "lastly, fill up tl infamy, and plunging tl in ; Net where prospect of paradisaical bl of a northern sun, rising i compared with the many ] of the heart of Maul No. CXXXIX. TO JOHN M'MURDO, Esq. hermit's solitary is but the glitter n d anu P e7inwhfch ore than 1 could netting of a col- uioh bank notes. BURNS— LETTERS. No. CXL. TO SIRS B The Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret; to which please add. The Spoiled Child— you will high- ly oblige me by so doing. There n7w%hts cursed gloomy blue-devil day", you are going to a party of choice spirits — «• To play the shapes Where lively wit excites to gay surprise ; Or folly-painting humour, grave himself, Calls laughter forth, deep-shaking ever No. CXLI. TO A LADY, honour my friend with your presence on his benefit night. That night is fixed for Friday first; the play a most interesting one. 'The wan In keep Him. I have the pleasure to know Mr G. well. His merit as an actor is generally acknowledged. He has genius and good things of this life i does brazen-fronted im " rightful due sordid wretches are thev, however chauce may have loaded them withVealth, who go to their graves, to their magnificent mausoleums, with poor honest heart happy ! TO MR this: I am on the ve come on there by le head of come, a life e^hfdecen sure. A lif iterary leisu It would be )rudish affec ation of silly pr hat I do not need or would n ot be indebte nd ; at the sam "lift? Tn o'e ence. If, ir my progress of where the good ffice's of a ge man of yoni might bring m forward, I low do myself the honou No. CXLIIL TO MRS lobster-coated puppies, sitting like another dragon, guarding the Hesperian fruit. On the conditions and capitulations you so oblig- ingly offer, I shall certainly make my weather- Among the profusion of idle compliments !. ich insidious craft, or unmeaning folly in- essantly offer at your shrine— a shrine, how rere it but for rarity's sake, to pay you the onest tribute of a warm heart, and an inde- endent mind ; and to assure yon, that I am, sou most amiable, and most accomplished of DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. No. CXLIV. TO THE SAME. on you, my ever-valued friend, bnt the .ncr.iii^ lam not sure. Sun- . period of our curst revenue busi- may probably keep me eniployed m nnt.l noon. Fine employment 5 pen ! Tbere is a species of the us that I call the gin-horse class : )le dogs they are ! Round, and herSli t, altogether Nove se of fretful ness h of the one lo ro nor of I soul flo uncing and flutter e a wild finch, can rs of wit ter, and newly thr ■where it dare not squeak : and if — . . . Pray that wisdom and bliss be morefrequei R. B. No. CXLV. TO THE SAME. I have this moment got the song from S deal. It sh: him any thin lave sent you n. But I h 1 write or sf 1 proudly se No. CXLVI. TO THE SAME. I Lave often told you, my dear J on had a spice of caprice in your , Em! you have as often disavowed i haps while your opinions were, at the moment, irrefragably proving it. Couid any ihisg estrange me from a friend such as you ?— No >. To-morrow I shall have the honour of waiting No. CXLYII. TO THE SAME. rrench that my heart can ill bear. It is, owever, some kind of miserable good luck, bat while de-haut-en-bas rigour may depress Bncleney to rouse a stubborn something in his osom, which, though it cannot heal the lunt their poignancy. Wiih the profoundest respect for your abili- lers; and 'the most fervent wish and prayer :■ w-r No. CXLVIII. TO JOHN SYME, ESQ. You know that among other high dignities you have the honour to be my supreme coul appeal. 1 inclose yon a song which I coin istory of it. Do you know t h that I admire in the charact s of those great folks whom I hi lourtocallmy acquaintances, nore than Mr O. 's » o that incomparable uy dear Syme, meet nore to the Divine ( han Mr O. ? A fi] who owe !1 good tl ra enious upright mind, and that informed mch beyond the usual run of young fel- f his rank and fortune ; and to all this, . woman ! — bnt of her I shall say nothing song, I have endeavoured to do justice BURNS LETTKKS. to what wonld be his feelings i ecene I have drawn, the habita As I am a good deal pleased w No. CXL1X. TO MISS Nothing short of a kind of absolute could have made me trouble you wit! ul. The scenes I have past wit my soul, and his amiable connej le wanderings™"? a" wewy "orta ; No. CL. TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 25th February, 1784. Canst thou minister to a mind diseased ? Cans! thou speak peace and rest to a soul lossed on a ,ea of troubles, without one friendly star to guide her course, and dreading that the next surge may overwhelm her ? Canst ihou give to a frame tremblingly alive to the tortures of suspense, the stability and hardihood of the faf rolence° I c e%a on my guard; uity of giddy c aptic r« '■:■/■:'■■ off the un nmk recip tate I ave a favourj request of you ■l"- : am. mean 3. YoVk ...V,, 'that, at th'e'w tend, 1 t.t iriel man of them 1 s ome r of W t r hem"p I,.- are and and all o As I litt e fame at stak that r live , when the ha e of of pone my super ^ns otobirvi'on.T 11' 'ti 'as-! e of :.lrs the goodness them plec tr.„ dship they bestowed ; an tha was all their m Mo=t poss opt latMreL. ' no 1 .t:g=r whi h I weU k now, and ever will r vere will * The song nclo ed was the one b-i ming Yvi'h ■« wa yev ha'sin yon tow -?'■' htn liV r„l". ,f It 'or igibility. im but his 1 there are ' tha mid the wt The . , . ,- "no of the c iffe "out tiling known by age. frefu atniuity. Tit »entt!" w '■;; ;e up ever 1 " scej c may den em, or the e ntlut .Ha" omponent Dart 'of iheh :; : '"!' iTtn ._''.. Mi-^ t, wi i.e a" ay of hope pour, the balm of comfort intot lewou nds whic htime can never I do 'j d » Ct ° s » a: a.'l 1 k DOW I "„ v.llu laugh at it, : nfi n^ ead the un- h the ools if they . N Quarrel with u,a:i for ,:= '; ■1 ? o ' ™?1 '"''I DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. this of falling, se add largely tc with the poet. Let me figure him, wandering gales, and enjoy t le growi ,- hi:; uriance of th be blooming you'tho'flife. H n all nature and through natu eup to 's God. His soul, by swift, d above this sublun elightin degr es, is wrap ary spbe silent no longer, a ous enthusiasm of Thomso "These, as they change Aim ghty Father, Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. " And so on, in all the spirit and ardour of that C Tbese t are J no ideal pleasures ; they are real delights, and I ask what of the delight6 among and lays hold on them tc ing, and approving C is the first epistle you ev lis nether world. I writ is of Hell, amid the horr rival here, I was fairly endure the purgatorial confine, for the space impropriety of my conduct yesternight under low of ever-piercing thorn, while an infernal name I think is Recollection, with a whip of scorpions, forbids peace or rest to approach me, madam, if I could in any measure be reinstated in the good opinion of the fair circle whom my who insisted < drinking more than I chose, has no right to blame me ; and the other gentlemen were par- takers of my guilt. But to you, madam, I have much to apologize. Your good opinion I valued as one of the greatest acquisitions I had made on earth, and I was truly a beast to t I have not outraged her beyond all ss — To all the other ladies please ry humblest contrition for my conduct, letition for their gracious pardon. O, No. CLII. TO MRS DUNLOP. 15th December, 17G5. ,nll,. n ,mpkt, ap.,1, shall „,"' &E uVeVknow you°" „,TJ myy aungest child, has b every uav. a week ei.ed There had man 'pic: sures an exed to the stales of hue. the anxious, sleepless hours ly give me. I see a trail folks ; me and my exertio while I— but I shall run distracted if I think any longer on the subject I To leave talking of the matter so gravely, I BURNS LETTERS. " O that I had ne'er been married, I would never bad nae care ; Now I've gotten wife and bairns, Ye'll crowdiea'niy n n ; only, as all noes a stagnatioi December 2ith. from the epid And not less anxious, 'sure, this night, than A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, So, sought a Poet, roosted near the skies, Told him, I came to feast mj curious eves, Said, nothing like bis works was ever print- And last, my prologue-business slily hinted "Ma'am, let me tell you, " quoth my man of Can you-bu't Miss, I own I have my fears, AVith laden sighs, and solemn rounded sen- Rouse from his sluggish slumbers fell Repent- I could no more— askance the creature eye- D'ye think, said I, this face was made for cry- I'll lauffh, that's poz — nay, more, the world shall kuow it ; And so, your servant— gloomy Master Poet. Firm as my creed, sirs, 'tis my fixed belief, That Misery's another word for Grief: I also think— so may I be a bride ! That so much laughter, so much life en- laugh in Misfortune's face—the Say, you'll be merry, thcugh you c Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the st to meditate the healing leap : Idst thou be cured, thou silly, moping eif, Laugh at her follies— laugh e'eu at thyself: '.earn to despise those frowns now so terriiic, jidlove a kinder — that's your grand spe- are sincere I that blessings may attend haVming" words° of "my" favourite au'tho'r', The Man rf Feeling, "Jlay the great Spirit bear up the weight of thy gray hairs ; and ■■'■'ut the arrow that brings them rest !" Vow that I talk of authors, how do you e Cowper ? is not the Task a glorious poem ? The religion of the Task, bating a few scraps of Calvinistic divinity, is the religion of God obles a man. Were'not you to send me your Zelucn in return for mine ? Tell me how you ike my marks and notes through the book. I roula not give a farthing for a book, unless were at liberty to blot it with my crili- hose rude sketches, a; the rhapsody of the ind MS. for my ' always to v ou cement of our acquaintance. If tl y possible conveyance, I would s rusal of my book. No. CLIII. TO MRS DUNLOP, IN LONDON. Dumfries 20ih December, 1795. I have been prodigi London journey of y in the J country, "a™ usly disappointed ill th reached Dumfries, 1 v. I thought you would 9pS:nES grant that it may fir i you and yours in pro 1th and good spirits. Do lc r8 DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. .s I hope to get a frank from my friend .tain. Miller, I shall, every leisure 1 ! up the pen, and gossip away wha ies tret, procc or poesy, sermon or i December 29. Since I began this letter I have been appointee assure you, what with the load of business, am what with that business being new to me, '. have spoken to you, had you been in town much less to have written you an epistle, This appointment is only temporary, and dur ing the illness of the present incumbent; bu I look forward to an early period when I shal sake ; and that it may yet be greatly prolonged, is my wish for my own sake, and for the sakf of the rest of your friends! What a transienl business is life ! Very lately I was a boy ; already begin to feel the ri«id fibre and'stiffen- irn; joints of old age con, in- last o'er my frame. With all my follies of youth, and, I fear, a few vices of manhood, still I congratulate mysell on having had, in early days, religion strongly goodne s, superintendi g and c f.-licila tion fo distress when he looks beyond he grave You Will have seen 01 r worthy friend, the Doctor, Ion g ere th is well and beg to be r member for the hundred and fiftieth time, his View of Society arid Manners; and still I read it with delight. His humour is perfectly original — it nor Sterne, nor of any body but Dr Moore.' By the bye, you have deprived me of Ze' oflaz^nessl hen you of my neglect f i e:;,,, XX. No. CUV. TO MRS 20/ft Jam art/, 1736. press my gratitud to til n to any other tirli idual ;:;:;, u'l J a son of the mu n.li pensa h you wished m • , c is, I think, fl from ■day, ill ve not been able about an hour aj I'. The; edly unlucky advertisements I lent (I did wrong) to a friend, and I am ill able to go iu quest of him. The muses have not quite forsaken me. No. CLV. TO MRS DUNLOP. SUt Januarj, 1798. These many months you have been two pack- ets in my debt — what sin of ignorance I have committed against so highly valued a friend, I ' " madam, I afford ■ of the i nail n tthis , ved of .it of my pleasures. I >f the cup of affliction, of my only daughter and so rapidly, as to put it out of my power pay the last duties to her. I had scarcely 1 5'un to recover from that shock, when I becai been before my own door in the street. When pleasure fascinates the mental sigh!, Affliction purifies the visual ray, Religion hails the drear, the untried night, That shuts, for ever shuts, life's doubtful No. CLVI. TO MRS R S LOYALTY. 4 th Jura serable health as to awing my loyalty it Sr'l? a ? ree 'i°? l-ke that of Balak to Would you hare " e , i^uch ciumsmacef to wifuo7hf^ a h P \ S !f J ° a 0n Satnrday, but I miserable ' " J ° U Can ' 3nd ° bli S e * P»"»™ No. CLVII. TO MR CUNNINGHAM. Brow, &«J«<4< W 0««rfo- s , 7tt J%> 1796i BURNS—LETTERS. No. CLVIIL TO MRS BURNS. MY dearest love, Brow, Thursday. il I eou II,,:.- ik.ly ,c happy to hear by MiT/jessYewars a.e well. My very best and kindes nients to her and to all the children ieevou on Sunday. Your aft'ectioi No. CLIX. TO MRS DUNLOP. MADAM, 12^7^,1796. "l , n«rwh1ch r haTlon^T n lnW ™ C,,ie ^^^ probability willlpe^UI, Tend^me^'ndVat bourne whence „„ tJLn— _..,. _ ! )on . nat --ition of Alexander Can; «/ last was James Gienca, THE POEMS ROBERT BURNS. NOBLEMEN AND GENTLEMEN CALEDONIAN HUNT. whose highest ambition is to sing in his liberty. In the last place, I come to proffer Country 's service — where shall he so properly my warmest wishes to the Great Fountain of look for patronage as to the illustrious names Honour, the Monarch of the Universe, for of his native Laud; those who bear the hon- your welfare and happiness. ours and inherit the virtues of their Ancestors ? The Poetic Genius of mj Country found me, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha_at "When you go forth to awaken the Echoes, the plough ; and threw her inspiring mantle your forefathers, may Pleasure ever be of your party ; end may social joy await your return : When harassed in courts or camps with the jostlings of bad men and bad measures, may my wild, artless notes, as she inspired— She the honest consciousness of injured worth may Domestic Happiness, with a smiling wel- jour honoured protection : I now obey her die- come, meet you at your gates '. May corruption Though much indebted to your goodness, I in "the People, equally find you an ineiorabla men, in the usual style of dedication, to thank I have the honour to be, by prostituted learning, that honest rusticity is With the sincerest gratitude, ashamed of it. Nor do I present this Address My Lords and Gentlemen , Your most devoted humble servant, bred to the Plough, and am independent. I come to claim the common Scottish name with ROBERT BURNS. you, my illustrious Countrymen ; and to tell Edinburgh, congratulate my Country, that the blood of her April 4, 17S7. POEMS, CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 'Twas ia that place o' Scotland's isle, That hears the name o' Auld Kmg Cod, Upon a bonnie day in June, When wearing thro' the afternoon, The first I'll name they ca'd him Camr, Was keepit for his Honour's pleasure ; Hislocked, letter'd, braw br But tho' he was o' high degrei The fient a pride.na pride had i But wad hae spent an hoar car Ev'a with a tinkler gipsey's messin'.' Frae morn to e'en its nought but toiling. At kirk or market, mill or smiddie, Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie, An' tho' the gentry first are stechin', But he wad stan't, as glad to see him, Yet ev'n the ha' folk fill their pechan And stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. Wi' sauce, ragouts, and sic like trashtrie, The tither was a ploughman's collie, Our Whipper-in, wee blastit°wonner, A rhyming, ranting, raving billie, Wha for his friend an' comrade had him, Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner, Better than ony tenant man And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him, His Honour has in a' the Ian' : After some dog in Highland sang,* An' what poor cot-folk pit their paiach in, Was made lang syne — lord knows how lang. I own its past my comprehension. He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke, L.ATH. As ever lap a sheugh or dyke. His honest, sonsie" bawsent face, Trowth, Cffisar, whyles they're fa Aye gat him friends in ilka place. His breast was white, Irs towzie back A cotter howkin in a shengh, Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black ; Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, His gawcie tail, wi' upward curl, Baring a quarry, and sic like, Hung o'er his hardies wi' a swurl. BBmsS', a wife, he thus sustains, Whyles mice and mondiei Whyles s :cur'd jvi i lange cur=lv An' worr Until svi darn a weary grown Upon a 1 _ey =:- And ther About th lords c ' a. nation. I'veaf en wo. der'd honest Luoth What so i o''i"f do-. U, An' wher. the g? hf t I =■ What w. sj.'ne= lh'd a ra. The yellow t, he ca'shis horse; , whare, thro' the st< Them right and tight DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Thev're maistly wonderfu' contented; An ' buirdly chiels, an' clever hizzies, Are bred ia such a way as this is. How huff'd, and cuff'd, and disr i L-d, man, our gentry care as little For delvers, ditchers, and sic cattle ; They gang as saucy by poor folk, As I wad by a stinking brock. Poor tenant boTes^scamV ca?h, Wle ' How they maun thole a factor's snash ; He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear, He'll apprehend them, poind their gear ; . V, i.iie they maun Stan', wi' aspect humble, They're sae accustom 'dwi' the ight, The view o't gies them little fright". Then chance an' fo rtune are sa egui They're -»ye in less o close empl A blink o' rest's a sw eet enjoyme nt. The dearest comfor o' their li es, Their grushie weans -nd faithfu The prattlin things ai Thatsweete.-.a'the r tire-side. An' whyles twalpe line worth ' nar Can mak the bodies u They lay aside their [ To mind the Kirk an i State afia They'll talk o' patron Wi' kindling fury in Or tell what new taxi And ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. As bleak-fac'd Hallowmas rett rns They get the jovial, r When rural life, o' e Unite in common ree Love blinks. Wit sla Forgets there's Care upoMh?^ th. That merry day th f^wt They bar the door on s; That I for joy hae barkit wi' them. Still it's owre true that ye hae salt Si • came is now owre aften plav'd. 'I here's mony a creditable stock" O' decent, honest, fawsont folk, Are riven out baith root and branch, Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, Wha thinks to knit himself the faster Wha aiblins thrang. a-parlismentin'.. For Britain's guid his saul indentin' — Haith, lad, ye little ken about it : For Britain's gvia /—guid faith, I doub'. I Say, rather, gauu as Premiers lead him, : An' saying aye or no's they bid him : Or by Madrid he takes the rout, To thrum guitars and fechl wi' nowt ; Or down Italian vista startles, Then bouses drumW^erma^wate™ 5 '' " ' S. fair and falter, ear sirs : is that the gat For gear to gang that gate i O would they sf An' please themselv The Laird, the Tena For lhae frank, ran: Fient haet o' them's be better, ill'bearted fellows" Except for breakin* Or speakin' lightly c Or shcotin' o' a har The ue'era bit they • their limmer,' re ill to poor folk. But will ve tell m Sure great folk 's life Nae cauld or hunger The very thought o , Master Ccesar, 'ere can'teer'then, L d, man, were ye but whyles where I The gentles ye wad ne'er envy them. It's true, they need na starve or sweat, ault But hun proportion less will hurt them. ry fellow at the pleugb, ;s till'd, he's right eneugh ; BURNS — POEJIS. Her dizzens c But Gentlemei r, lounging, lank, an' la; Tho' deil haet ails them, vet uneas; The joy can scarcely reach the heart. ' like ony unhang'd blackguard. The bum-clock humm't The kye stood rowtin' i When up they gat an s it o* sight: ught the night : wi' lazy drone ; i i- the loan : i shook their lugs, 1a men but dogs ; le ither day. SCOTCH DRINK. Till he forgets h : other poets rs ' crahbit'natne Inglas: d deep carouse "PS, O Thoa, my Muse t guid anld Scotch Drink ; Or, richly brown, ream o'er the brink, In glorious faem, Inspire me, till I lisp and wink, To sing thy name. Le..z ;e and Beans at e'en or morn, Perfume the plain. Thou king On thee aft Scotland chows her cc Or tumbliu' in the boiling flood, Wi' kail an' beef: But when thou There Food fills the wame, a ho' life's a gift no wor e nerves o' Laboui Afs weary toil ; htens dark Despaii Wi' Gentles thou erects thy head ; Yet humbly kind in lime o' need, The poor man's w ipparrit Th ou kitchens fin Thou art th life o ' public haun iiit thee, wha :v'n godly me et.ngs thee inspired', \ hen gaping Are doubly fired. i' gusty sucker ! Vae mercy, then, for airn or steel ; e brawnie, baioie, ploughman chiel ings hardowrehip, wi' sturdy wheel The strong forehamn Till block ai * ' Wi' ie cian light, 'hou maks the gossips clatter bright, [owfuEiblin'eui!= theii Wae worth the namt lae howdie gets a social night, Or plack frae the When neebours anger at a plea, DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. asy can the barley bret •e the cheapest lawyer EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER* TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES E'er spier her price, orth that brand]/, burning trai Ye Scots, -wha Ye, chief, to yo, Poor plackless d< May gravels round his blather wreucl An' gouts torment him inch by inch, Wha twists his gruntle wi" a glunch HOUSE OF COMMONS. Dearest of Distillation : last and best —How art thou lost ! Parody on Milto'u Ye Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squi: "" represent our brughs an' shires, )U a simple Poet's | humbly sent. Alas ! my roupet m Thee, Ferintosh 1 O sadly lost ! Scotland, lament frae coast to coas Now colic grips, an barkm' W,_-t, n glunch an' gloom f i ia=h jour thumb; Wha mak (b e Wi.nhj . Haud up thy ban', Oei An' bake them up in br ! ano-, twice, thrice! seize the blinker.! Fortune! if thou'll b Hale breeks,. a scone, a o t ^ An' dcal't about as thy at gie me still ' Whisky gill, ave at will, blind skil'l Scotch Dislillcriei Scotland and 111 grateful thanks. BURNS. -P0EM3. Then on the tither hand present ber ; A blackguard Smuggler right behint b An' cheek- for- chow, a chuftie Vintner Colleaguingjoin, Of a' kind coin. fi Mui Thus inginst By gallows knaves ? Alas ! I'm but a nameless wight, But could I like Montgomeries fight, There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight, God bless your Honours, can'yesee't, Some o' you nicely ken the laws, An' wi' rhetoric clause on clause To mak harangues : Then echo thro' St Stephen's wa's Auld Scotland's wrangs. Dempster, a trne blue Scot I'se warran ; An' that glib-gabbet'Hi^hland Baron. ' The Laird o' Graham ;f- An' ane, a chap that's damn'd auldfarran, For G— d sake, Sirs ! then speak her fair. An' to the muekle house repair. Yon ill-tongued tinkler, Charlie Fox, E'en eowe the caddie: An' send him to his dicing box An' sportin' lady. Tell yon gnid bluid o' auld Boconnock':, I'll be his debt twa mashlum bannocks. Conld he some commutation broach, I'll pledge my aith in gui,'. braid Scotc! He need na fear their foul reproach Auld Scotland has a raucle tongne An' if she promise auld or young She'll no desert. An' now, ye chosen Five-and-Forh', Then, tho'' a .Minister grow dorty, An' kick your place, Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' heart? Before his face. God bless your Honour is your Honours a' your days, o' kail and brats o' claise, That haunt St Jamie's! oet sinjs an' prays While Rob his name is. ysl exert you- mettle, and back her kettle ; Tog Or faith! I'll w id my new pleugh-pettlc, Ye'll see't or lang, She'll teach you wi' a reekin' whittle, Anither sang. Thi while she's been in cank'rous mood, Her (Deilnathejne Play'dher = that'pliskie:l ke to rin red-wud An - now she's 1 About her Whisky. n' I_d if a ice the? pit her tili't, Hor oat she'll kilt, An durk an' p-. tol at her belt, She'li tak the streets, An rin her whi tie to the hilt. I' the first she meets ! POSTSCRIPT. Their lot auld Scotland Tak aff their Whisky. Or hounded forth dishonour a DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Their bauldest thought's a h To stan' oi Till skelp— a shot—they're ; To save thf But bring a Scotsman frae Clap ia his cheek a Highlan Say, such is royal George's Ao' there'; He has nae thought but how Twa at a b Nae cauld, faint-hearted dc Death comes, with fearless e Wi' bluidy hand a welcome His latest draught o' breath: An' physically causes seek, But teU me Whisky's name in Greek, ' I'll tell the reason. Scotland, my auld, respected Mither I Tho' whyles ye moistify your leaiher, Till whare you sit, on craps o' heather, THE HOLY FAIR.* A robe of seeming truth , Hid crafty Observatioi The 6 dirk of Uefamatiol A mask that like the gor; Dye-varying oi d"fur .. nantle large ai lightsomely I glowr'd ; The third that gaed a Fu' kind IV. st aff, qnoth I, ' To spend an hour in d iin ye'll go there, yon r We will get famous la re clad, frae side to side, Io droves that day. VII. in' graith Here farmers gash, i Gaed hoddin by their couers : The lasses skelpin' barefoot, thrang, In silks an' scarlets glitter ; Wi' sweet-milk cheese in monie a wliaii" Aa'/arls baked wi' butter, Fu' crump that day. VIII. Vhen by the plate we s Weel heap J l greedy glo< 1 are busy bletl Right k Are blinkin' at the entry. Ileresitsarawoftittlin'jad. Wi' arm reposed on the chair-back He sweetly does- compose him ! Unkenn'd that da neck XII. g fe silent expgtetiott; ^ Wi' tidings o« damnation. Should Howie, as in ancient davs, Wiang sons o' God pre=e„i him ' The vera sight o' >s face, To's ain het hame had sent him Wi» fright that da y- But hark * the tent h There's peace and Of moral p^we is English sty], POEMS See, up he's got the word o* God, XVII. Wee neist the guard relieves, An' orthodoxy raibles, Tho' in his heart he weel believes And thinks it auld wives 'fables : But, faith, the birkie wants a manse So cannily he hums them ; Altho' his carnal wit and sense, Like hafflins-ways o'ercomes him At times that day.. xvin. Now but an' ben, the change-house fi Wi' yill-caup commentators: Here's crying out for lakes and gills, And there the pint stoup clatters ; ^ Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture, They raise a din, that in the end, O' wrath that XIX. Leeze me on dri Than either S hool or Colleg It kindles wit, i It pangs us foi o' knowledge. Be't whisky gill Or ony strong It never fails on drinking deep, To kittle up o By night or d XX. The lads an' las es, blythely be To mind baith saul and body, On this ane's dressj lis piercing words, like Highland s\ lis talk o' Hell, where devils dwell, Our very saul does harrowt Wi' fright that day XXII. i vast, nnbottom'd boundless pit, Wad melt the hardest whun-stane ! Tie half asleep start up wi' fear, Vhen presently it does appear, DIAMOND CATHNET LIBRARY. Asleep that XXIII. That e'er ; The Clac' rshjer. XXV. Waesucks ! for him that gets Sma' need has he to say a gra DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK. Some books are lies frae end to end, And some great lies were never penn'd, Ev'n Ministers, they hae been kenn'd, In holy rapture, A rousing whidi at times, to vend, Andn; I'm ibis t 5 moon began ut Cumnock h To count her horns, wi But whether she had l! Icou I was come round abou I took a bicker. 1 there wi' something did forgather, That put me in an eerie swither : An' avvfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouth Clear-dangling, hau c A three-taed leister ou the ither, Lay, large au' lang. Its statu The que e seem'd lang Scotch ells twa rest shape that e'er I saw, , They we ame And a then! its shanks re as thin, as sharp, an' sma' ' Guid e 'en, 'quo' I; 'Friend! hae When it her folk- are busy sawin' : '* It spak right he we _ ' '1; ameisZW,, But ■ '--(": , -Guid faith. Ye' lap my bre But e, billie; Ire ye weel t k Se" here s a gully ! ' 'GutcTman.'qi o'he, put up your whittle, 1 to try ettle ; Eut if I did, I killl 3 , I w d namind it, no, ipHtle but >wre my beard,' • Y» eel, weel ! says . 'a bargain be 't; Con Wo 11 ease our shanks • gie s k yo a ur e news; This hae I ony a gate, At m my a bouse. iW&fc «%?Bi i •Ay, ay,' q 'it- e'vii a Sm'Ibegat BURNS.- i* he, an' shook his head, An' choke the' breath: The Farina of beans and pease, He has't in plenty ; Aqua-foutis, what you please, Till ane Hornbook's' n Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan, Nae doubt they'll ri But Doctor Hornbook, wi Has made them baitu no Dainn'c ' 'Twas but yestreen, nae I threw a noble throw at i Wi'less, I'm sure, I've 1 But deil It just played dirl on the :e he tells'U l»s and whittles, AsAB C. >' fossils, earths, and trees; * This gentleman, Dr Hornbook, is, pro- fessionally, a brother of the Sovereign Order of the Ferula? but by intuition and inspiration, is at once an Apothecary, Surgeon, and Phy- t Euchan's Domestic Medicine. ' Whare I killed ane a fair strae death, This night I'm free to lak my aith, That Hornln„k' b skill Has clad a score i' their last claith, last The wife slade c Whei end her head, * bed, « A countra Laird had ta'en the batts, Or some curmurring in his guts, His only son for Hornbook sets, An' pays him well ; The lad, for twa guid g. turner pets, Was laird hioisel'. Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, But hark ! I'll tell you of DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. rt hour ayont the twal, THE BRIGS OF AYR : Inscribed t The simple Ba teaming his ti nellow thru ing lark, the perching red- breast toned plovers, grey, wild -whistling lowly shed, Shall he, nursed in the Peasa To hardy independence brave! By early Poverty to hardship And train 'd to arms in sti ?el ! d Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes, The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes ? Or labour hard the panegyric close, With all the venal soul of dedicating Prose : No! though his artless strains he rude And thro- ck the gossamor waves wanton rays. hat season, when a simple bard, and poor, simplicity's reward, within the ancient brugh of Ayr, aspired, or haply press'd wi' care The down by Si npson's* w icei'd the left bether i 35? by all-direct r shall n .,* Fa • , „ he knew i why) ,vsy Dun -clockf had u And Wallace towerf had sworn the fact was The tide-swoln Firth, with sullen-sounding Thro' the still night dash'd hoarse along the All else was hush 'd in Nature's closed e' The si The cl tn-pt, When, lo! < The clanging s Two dusky form B high o l either hand the list'ning ugh of whistling wings he dart through the midnight And hands the rustic stranger up With heart-felt throbs his grt The godlike bliss, fogive, alone e: 'Twas when the stacks get o Of co Theb, number'd buds a ireath ; ' flowers' delicious spoils with frugal c Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the The death o' devils, smoor'd wi' brimstone reek: The thundering guns are heard on every side, The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide ; Thefeather'd field-mates, bound by Nature's mothers, childre (What Andes Nae l • the flower i t inly bleeds, Nae mair the grove wi' airy c Except, perhaps, the Robin's Proud o' the height o' son , l!.at rs, Spunkiei lev'n the vera deih dBrig appear 'd of seem'd as he wi' 1 : teughly doure, he >e uprears, they brawly ken them,) it Lon' The Ooth a w search Spying the t It chanced h Wi' thieveless He, down the i e up, smooth's irlygigums at the bea stalking round with t time-worn flaws ir Is!) uide'en:— * A noted tavern at the Auld Brig end. t The two steeples. t The gos-hawk, or falcon. BURNS — POEMS. Tho' faith that day I doubt ye '11 never see ; There'll be, if that day come, I'll wad a Auld Vaadal, ye but show your little mense, Will your pooTnarr^w foTt-p^thYf a street, WTiere twa wheel-barrows tremble when they y should east the very sark and would grate their feelings wi' the ugly Gothic hulk as you. Compare There's i Tho' tlic Coueeited gowk ! puff'd up wi' This mon:e a 'year I've stood the wi An' tho' wi''crazy eUd I'm sair forfair I'll be a Brig when ye're a shapeless c tsyetyeli 13 j- t a-threi When he When from the hills where springs the brawl- ing Coil, Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil, Or where the Greenock winds his moorland Or haunted Garpalf draws his feeble source, The L_d be thankit Gaunt, ghastly, ihi ! ; * A noted ford, just above the Auld Brig. t The hanks of Garpal Water is one of the few places in the West of Scotland, where those fancy-scaring beings, known by the name of Ghaists, still continue pertinacious!) £ A small landing place above the large key irching, mouldy, gloom-inspirit] is not found on eat would disgrace Were ye but h Ye worthy = Pro Ye godly Councils v* Ye godly Brethren o Wha meekly gae jot ha hae blest this tt re douce folk I've borne a' re ye but here, what wnu] v would your spirits gro see each melancholy alter: •er°Rev'rend Men° their country's flory, braid Scots hold forth a plain brai>. ■r thrifty Citizens, an' douce,, r a pint, or in the Council house : urei, corky-headed, graceless Gen- i of the e -try; m parts made by tailors and by b ite your weel-hain'd gear on d new Brigs and Harbours .' In Ayr, wag-wits nae r To mouth ' a Citizen,' Nae mair the Counc DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. can hae a handle I To rustic Agriculture Or gather'd lib'ral views in Bonds and Seis If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp, lull Stupidity stept kindly in THE ORDINATION. ib they hide the little givt Wha farther cl loony' wars, shmacla ,er migh't been What if spr shed, No man can tell ; hi t all before their sight, A fairy Adown the glitt'ri m they featly Bright to the mo n their various dresses Kilmarnock wabsters, fid~e and claw An' pour your creeshie nations ; They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so neat, The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet. While arts Andi O had M "Lauchlan, Been there to hear this heavenly band engage, When thro' his dear Strathspeys they bore with Highland rage ; Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs, The lover's raptured joys or bleeding cares ; How would his Highland lug been nobler fired, And even his matchless hand with finer touch No guess could tell wh t all the soul of Mus M n •if ■,.':. it appear While sim The Gen His hoary His manly Nest came Sweet Fen Spri Then, crow And Summ All-cheerin pie melody pou every ving on us of the str chief advan ead with w eg with ga ale Beauty Jg ,' ced w'ry n fron inWr inall hay, appears ound. ' cameRn er, with his ; Plenty, w fervid-bean ng = horn," th noddi Th en Win er's time-bleach d IceL s did hoa By Hospitality with cloudless brow ; Next follow'd Courage with his martial From where the Feal wild- woody ram simple Catrine, their Ion well known performer of Scottish musi< \.n' skirl up the Bangor: is day the kirk kicks up a stonre, \ T ae mair the knaves shall wrang her. oel«s ] i' vigour mf leugh at his Dad, in'g blade, Which made < Or Phineasi dro Wi' whore-abhorring rigour; Or Zipporah,| the scaulding jade. Was like a bluidy tiger V the inn that day. V. There, try his mettle on the creed, * ' bind him down wi' caution, Stipend is a carnal weed, taks but for the fashion ; ie him o'er the flock to feed, * Alluding to a scoffing ballad which w nade on the admission of the late reverend ai torthy Mr L. to the Laigh Kirk. BURNS POEMS. Spare them nai VI. nock, cock thy ta Now there— they're packed aff to hell An' banish 'd our dominions, Henceforth this day No gi'en by way o' di ick and wale, ilka' day. VII. Babel's streams we'll weep, fiddles up to sleep, the pegs with tunefu' cheep, elbncks wheep, fast this day. VIIL Lang Patronage, w Has shored the kir* s uuuum , As lately Fenwick, sair forfairn, Has nroven to its ruin : o I Glencairn, brewin' ; a godly elect bairn An' sound this day. He saw m XIV. Come bring the tither mutchkin in, To every New Light* mother's son, Now R harangue nae ma: But steek your gab for ever ; Or try the wicked town of Ayr, For there they'll think you elevei M and you were just a match, We never had sic twa drones ; Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch, i raptured hour irlot, avenly Power, Fast, fast, this day. XL See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes, Ha S rk e how W th Sin ' lhl0 ° l f h the C ' ty ; I vow it's unco pretty : There Learning, wi' his Greekish face. An' Common-sense is gaun, she savs, To mak to Jamie Beattie Her plaint this day. xn. But there's Morality himseP, Embracing a' opinions ; Hear, how he gies the titber yell, i'ar and rowte, ;e will donbt your clai S 'he nowte. numbered wi' the dea< f hUlock, may mark your head- imous Bullock 1 ' * New Light is a cant j :0 tland, for those relig Dr Taylor of Norwich ha« DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. ADDRESS TO THE DEIL, ince ! Chief of maav throned I MiU, O thou ! wh: Aula Hoi " Wha in j !, Sati m:* i ___ _ it thee, , Nick, or Clootie, Closed under Spairges about the 1 To scaud poor w Hear me, auld Hangie, for a w An' let poor damned bodies be ; Great is thy pow' Far kend and noted , an' great thy faoi is thy name: 1' tho' yon lowin' heugh's thy hame, Thou travels far ; An' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame, Whyles, ranging like a roarin' lion, Tor prey, a' holes and corners tryin' ; Whyles on the strong-winged tempest fi Wi' eldritch cr m twilight did my Graunii Aft y, u=tlin', Wi' heavy gro Ae dreary, windy, winter nig] The stars shot down w.' sklenth Wi" you, mvseP, I gat a fright, A\ont the lous Ye, like a rash-bush Wi' The cudge Let Warlocks grim, an' wiiher'd hag Tell how wi' you on ragweed nags, They skim the muirs, and dizzy crags, d in kirk-yards ( rbence countra r, plunge an' plunge the ki howkit dead. Y< u. As yell's the Bill. ice mystic knots mak great abuse, ing Cuidman, fond, keen, an' en the best wark-lume i' the hou=e, By cantrip wit, When thowes dissolve the snawy ho Then Water-kelpies haunt ihe fbord, By your direction. An' nighted Travelers are a An' aft your moss- Decov the wight that The bleezin', cursed De Till in some miry slo raversing Spur "gh he sunk'is, When Masons' my Some^ck^rca'Tjou s raise you up, Or, The youngest Brothe Aff strange to tell ye wad whip straught to hel Then you, ye auld, < c-drawing dog '. ir thrall, ued wicked scawl Michael* did you pier Down to this time now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're think.n 1 ain Bardie's rantin', drinkin', luckless hour will send him linkm', To your black pit ; * Vide Milton, look >i BURNS POEMS. But ft ith: he'll turn a And cheT/Jy*!"'' But Jfe ai 'm h fare ye weel, a linsmight-J ? d Still ae to think upon Even Id Nickie-ben ! THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS POOR MAIL IE, THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE. AN UNCO MOURNFTj' TALE. Th WI re ae day nibbling on.the tether, owre she warsled in the ditch ,- re, groaning, dying, she did lie, en Hughoc * he came doytin by. lie Bu He s r aw U he h r°da lik s e w a e ength poor Mail and lifted han's, he could na mend it ! ' thou, whase 1 Appears to mourn m My dying words atl An' bear them to m amentable face y waefu' case ! As 0, w Bu An So To Tell him, if e'e muckle gear ash may bis flock in again he keep uy a sheep, o' hemp or hair ! r P at the'ir wi'll : an'^cktl^woo'' « Tell him, he was a master kin', An' now my dying charge I gie him, My helpless lambs I trust them wi' him. ' bid him save Frae dogs, an* tods But gie them guid c Till they be fit to fe An' tent them duly ow-milk their fill, To So Fo An' may they never learn the gates ither vile, wanrestfu' pets 1 stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail, may they, like their great forbears, r mony a year come thro' the sheers : * A nerto r herd-callan. ' My poor toop-lamb, wie, silly thing, Wi' ony blastit moorland toop But aye keep mind to moop an Wi' sheep o' credit like thysei POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY. Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, Wi' »aut tears trickling down your nose Our bardie's fate is at a close, It's no the loss o' warl's gear, That could sae bitter draw the tear, Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear The mourning weed : He's lost a friend and neebor dear, Thro' a' the town she trotted by h: A lang half-mile she conld descry hi: Wi' kindly bleat when she did spy h Than Mailie dead. I wat she was a sheep o' sense, An' could behave hersel' wi' mense: I'll say't, she never brak a fence, Thro' thievish greed. Our bardie, lanely, keeps the spence Sin' Mailie 's dead. Or, if he wanders up the howe, DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Than Mai! Wae worth the man wha i join the melancholious croon O' Robin's reed! irt will never get aboon His Mailie dead. TO J. SYME. Dear Sjme, the sleest, paukie That e'er attempted stealth or I Ye surely hae some warlock-bn Owre human For ne'er a bosom vet was prie Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, My barrnie noddle's working prime, i\iy fancy yerkit up sublime Wi' hasty summon ; Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash ; Some riijme(vaiii thought '.) tor needlu' ca u I 1, = ', ■ id,i, 1 rhyme for fun. l'he star that rules my luckless lot, i' damned my fortune to the groat : is bless'd me wi' a random shot O' countra wit. This while my notiou's taen a sklenl Something cries • Hool Ye'll shaw your folly. lere's ither poets, much your bettei lought they had insured their debtors, moths deforn ! ages ; Their ■n pages.* Then farewell hopes o' laurel-boughs, To garland my poetic brows ! Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs Are whistling thrang, An' teach the lanely heights an' howes My rustic sang. I'll wander on, with tentless heed Till fate shall snap the brittle thread ; Then, all unknown. '11 lay me with th' inglorious dead, ' -~ J gonel Forgot But why o' death begin . tale ? And large, before enjoyment's gale, This life, sae far's I understand, Is a' enchanted fairv land. Where plea; That wielded right, Maks hours like minut Dane e by fu' light. Th ic-wand the n let us w ield; F orty'ssp azy weary, joy wrinkled C shos e Held, Wi' creep in' p ace. When nice life's day draws nea T !en glo= fare* veu'-Lantc arelese ro- amin' ■ An' farewell dear deli OLife! how pie Young Fancy's ray Cold pausing Cauti Like school-boys, e joy of joys! : in thy morning, Tojoyandpla, We wander there, we wander We eye the rose upon the brier, Unmindful that the thorn is nea ' Ainang the.lea And though the puny wound apj BURNS POEMS. With steady aim, some Fortune cb 'lhro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the r Then cannie in some cozie place, They close the day. An* others, like your humble senan Poor wights ! nae rules or roads obsel To right 01 l::i 01 They zig-zag 01 = They aften groa In all her climes, ;e but this, I ask no more, Aye row th o' rhymes. An' yill an' whisky gie to caiiMs, Until they scour « A title, Dempster merits it ; Uif weith e to°iomebe fed'er'd But gi'e me real, sterling wit, I rhyme away. O ye douce folk, that live by rule Grave, tideless- blooded, calm 'and cool, Compared wi' you— O fool { fool ! fool : Your hearts are just a standing pool, Whilst I— but I shall hand rr The/°j a irie Tshalf s" S nae m A DREAM. Thoughts, words, and deeds, the s ncy, made the following Address.] Guid nornin' to you r Majesty! nt your blis Onev ..ay ye see, Myba On Is sun 'an^tcouths ght'to see, ay dresses 5 fine this da II. - V - Iseey By, .onyalordan Mady, ' liuu ave the King Tha The p Wi' ur.fedau'r ady, \\ a.i £ ar you trow 3 Tie'er do w But yeunernngs sf dy " :r pension, post, nor place, mrhuniDle debtor: section on your grace, e'en right reft an' , »' less/wilTgan^'al DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. There, him* at Aginconrt wha shor Few better were or braver ; And yet wi' funny queer Sir John.f Wad ■ rlyre An' now ye've gien auld Britain peace.. — . P L aUt fl r ; \j Ufe's'a lea An' now ye've gien auld Britain peac Her broken shins to plaister ; Your sair t Till she 1 Or, faith '. I fear, that wi' the geese, I shortly boost to pasture I' the craft some day I'm no mistrusting Willie Pit, When taxes he enlarges, (An' Will's a true guid fallow's get, A name not envy spairges), That he intends to pay your debt. An' lessen a' your charges ; But God sake ! let nae saving fit Abridge your bonnie barges An' boats this day. VIII. Adieu, my Liege ! may freedom geek An' may ve rax. Corruption's neck, An' gie'her for dissection ! But since I'm here, I'll no neglect, In loyal true affection, To pay your Queen, with due respect, My fealty an' subjection xn. For you, right rev'rend Osnabrug, Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter, Altho' a ribbon at yonr lug Wad been a dress completer : As ye disown yon paughty dog That bears the keys of Peter, Then, swith ! an' get a wife to hug, Or tronth, yell stain the mitre Some luckless day. A glorious galley* Weel rijg'd for >rious galley* stem an ' stem, 'd for Venus' barter ; But first hang out, that she'll disc Your hymeneal charter, Then, heave aboard your grapple \ An' large upo' her quarter, Come full that c XIV. lings are unco scant aye rman gentles are but sn Hail, Majesty ! Most Excellent! While nobles strive to please ye Will ye accept a compliment A simple poet gies ye ! Thae bonnie bairntime, Heav'n hai Still higher may they heeze ye In bliss, till fate seme day is sent. For ever to release ye For you, young potentate o' Wales, I tell yonr Highness fairly, Down Pleasure's slream, wi' swelling sa I'm tauldye're driving rarely; But some day ye may gnaw your na.ls, An* curse your folly sairly, That e'er ye brack Diana's pales, Or rattled dice wi' Charlie, By night or day. Fu' clean that day. THE VISION. DTJAN P1KST.§ d closed the wint An' hunger'd man While faithless si Alluding to the newspaper aceoui certain royal sailor's amour. I 5 Duan, a term of Ossian's for the di di> is^ons of a digressive pcem. See his Loda, vol. ii. of M'Pherson's (ranslatioi And whan the day had closed his e'e, Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie, I gaed to rest. There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, tumblinj lofty The lordly dome. ?re Boon poor'd down his far-fete floods ; e, well-fed Irwine stately thuds : hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods, On to the *hore ; And many a lesser torrent scuds, With seeming roar. Low, in a sandy valley spread, I might by this, hae led a market, My cash account ; While here, half-mad, half-led, half-sarkit, To every nobler virtue And] stately tower or r ted, mutt 'ring, blockhead 1 coof ! ved on high my waukit loof, ir by a' yon starry roof, _ When click ! the string the sneck did dra An ' by my ingle-lowe I saw, Now bleezin' bright, A tight outlandish Hizzie, braw, Come full in sight. And stepped ben. r, leaf-clad holly boughs, My heart did glowing transport feel, To see a race * heroic wheel, And brandish round the deep-dyed steel While back-recoiling seem'd to reel Their southron foes. His Country's saviour,-!- mark him well ! Bold Richardton's ± heroic swell ; The chief on Sark 5' who glorious fell. In high command; And he whom ruthless fates expel His native land. There, where a sceptred Pictish shade jl * The Wallaces. f T 'A well-known land. § Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who w rmond, at the famous battle on the'banks Sark, fought, anno 1448. That glorious v *— - was principally owing to the judicic conuuct and intrepid valour of the galls j Laird of Craigie, « ho died of his wounds af ! R Coilu's, king of the Picts, from whom t district of Kyle is said to take its name, 1 1 of the'lUoutgomeries 'of' Coilsfield, where his ■-'■■■ -?-•■'--' I f Barskimming, the seat of the late Lord i Justice-Clerk. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. (Fit haunts for friendship or for love In musing mood,) An aged judge, I saw him rove, Dispensing good. Willi deep-struck reverential awe,* The learned sire and son I saw, To Nature's God and Nature's law t I well could Spy DUAN SECOND. With musing. deep, astonishM Of kindred s wee en with an elder sister's air She did me gree thy native muse regard ! No longer mourn thy fate is h r Thus poorly 1c is of this ' Know, the greai Has many a light, a Who, all beneath his high command Harmoniously, As arts or anus they understand, Their labours ply. ' Whe yellow waves the heavy grai Thethi " ome teach to r With tillage skill nd some instruct the shepherd-trni Blythe o'er the hi! ' Some hint the lover's harmless \ ome soothe the Ii 'gly r. For huml ' Some, bounded to a district-space, Explore at large man's infant race, Of rustic Bard ; And careful note each op'uiug grace, A guide and guard. ' Of these am I— Coila my name ; And this district as mine I claim, Where once the Campbells, chiefs of rani Held ruling pow'r, I mark'd thy embryo tuneful flame, Thy natal hour. ' With future hope, I oft would gaz.-. Fond on thy little early ways, Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase, * 'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, They, ardent, kindling spirits pour ; ~ Or, 'mid the venal senate's roar, They, sightless, stand, To mend the honest patriot-lore, And grace the hand. ' And when the bard, or hoary sage, Charm or instruct the future age, They bind the wild poetic rage In energy, Ur point the inconclusive page Full on the eye. « Hence Fullarton the brave and young; Hence sweet harmoni ,ns His "Minstrel lays;" * Catrine, the seat -if the late Doctor, a iresent Profess, r Stewart, i Colonel Fullarton. Drove thro' the sky, Struck thy young eye. ' Or when the deep-green mantled earil Warm cherish 'd ev'ry How 'ret 's birth, nd joy and music pouring forth In ev'ry grove, saw thee eye the general mirth With boundless love. ■ When ripen 'd 6elds, and azure skies, Call'd forth the reaper's rustling noise, w thee leave their evening joys, And lonely stalk, To vent thy bosom's swelling rise In pensive walk. •n youthful love warm blushing stn Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along, Those accents, grateful to tby tongue, Th' adored Name, )W to pour in song. To soothe thy flame. BURNS POEMS. ' I saw thy pulse's maddening play, Wild send Ihee Pleasure's doiuu= «;i\ Misled by Fancy's meteor ray, By Passion driven ; But yet the light that led astray Was light from heav, • I taught thy manners-painting srrai The loves, the ways of simple swains, Till now o'er all my wide domains Thy fame extends ; And some, the pride of Coila's plains, e moving fl< . on the heai Yet green the juicy hawth. Did rustling play ; I, like a passing thought, she fled ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUIU, RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. My son, thesi ■" rule, Supply 'd wi' store o' water, The heapet happer's ebbing still, Aud still the clap plays clatter. II. Hear me, ye venerable core, As counsel for poor mortals, That frequent pass douce Wisdom's For glaikit Folly's portals : I, for their thoughtless, careless sak Would here propone defences, 71j ,':, usie tricks, their black mist III. And shudder at the niffer, But cast a moment's fair regard. What maks the mighty differ ? Discount what scant occasion gave That purity ye pride in, And (what's aft mair than a' the it\ Your belter art o' hiding. IV. rhink, when your castigated pulse What ragings must his veins convuli That still eternal gallop : Hi' uiud and tide fair i' your tail, Or your more dreaded hell to state. Damnation of expenses ! Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, Tied up in godly laces, efore ye gie poor frailty names, But know not what's resisted. TAM SAMSON'S * ELEGY. A:. -:lh: -: Has auld Kilmarnock seen tie Deil Or R % again frown weel To preach an* rea< Kilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane, An' s'gh, an' sab, an' gTeet her lane, An' deed her bairns, man, wife, and wea In mourning weed ; To death, she's dearly paid the kane, Tam Samson's dead .' The brethren of the mystic level. May hing their head in woefu' bevel, While by the ir nose the tears will revet, Like ony bead ! Death's gien the lodge an unco derel, When winter muffles up his cloak. And binds the mire like a rock ; When to the lochs the curlers flock, Wi' gleesome speed ; Wha will they station at the cock ? Tam Samson's dead! DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY". While pointers re He was the king o' To guard, or draw, c Or up the rio-^ Like J- w he lags on death's hog And eels weel kenn'd for sonple tail, ' Heaven rest his saul, whare'er 1 And sleds for r.-eei, Since dark in death's fish-creel we wail He had twafauts, or maybe thiee, Tam Samson dead 1 Yet what remead Ae social, honest man, want we; Rejoice, ye :' — ' g - utricles a' : Tam Samson's d Ye cootie moorcocks cronsely craw ; Ye maniins, cock vour fods fu' braw, Withouten dread j Your mortal fae is now ana', THE EPITAPH. Tam Samson's dead ! Tam Samson's weel-worn clay her That warfu' mora he ever monrn'd, Ye canting zealots, spare him ! Saw him in shootin' graith adorn 'd, If hones: worth in heaven rise, Ye '11 mend or ye won Dear him. * When this worthy old sportsman we last muirfowl season, he supposed it was c-e,' in Ossian's phrase, ■ the last of his fields . ' and PER CONTRA. expressed an ardent wish to die and be ] dried in the muirs. On this hint, the author Go ; Fame, and canter like a filly posed his i.-.z~ a-; 5-:: = --. the million. Vide the Ordination, Sts t Another preacher, an equal favour. Me i ,. the (Mimtiaa, Staon IX". Frae couples freed ! t, och ! he gaed and ne'er return 'd ! Tam Samson's deai .' to vain auld age his body batters ; Till coward death behind him jumpii Wi' deadly feid; Now he proclaims wi' lout o' trumpet, Tam Samson's dead! When at his heart he felt the dagger. But yet he drew the monal u'.zsii Wi' w eel-aim 'd heed; ' L - d, five ! ' he criet = Seed'. Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither ; Dk sportsman youth bemoan 'd a father ; Yon auld grey stane amang the heather, Marks out his head, Whare Burns has writ, in rhyming blether Tam Samson's dead ! There low he lies, in lasting rest : Perhaps upon his mould'riiig breast Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest, To hatch an' breed ; When August winds the heather wax And sportsmen wander by von grave, Three volleys let his ruetn'Vy crave Tam Samson's dead! filly, f Eillie,* BURNS POEMS. For yet unskailh'd by di HALLOWEEN. * [The following poem will, by many reader: of those who°are unacquainted with the mai V, Scotland lhepa- part of the history of human nature in its nenlightenedinourown.] ^thejowly trai. in all the gloss c Jpon that night, when fairies ligl On Cassilis Downans t dance, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaz On sprightly coursers prance ; Or for Colean the route is la'en, all abroad on their baneful midnight erran particularly those aerial people, the Fail vcrsary. -f- Certain little, romantic, rocky, gi ..■'■•. „ud of the ancient i of me Earls of Cassilis. i A noted caveru near Colean-house ca The Cove of Colean; which, as Cassilis D try story for bein The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat, Mair braw than when their line ; Their faces blithe, fu' sweetly kytlie Gar lasses' hearts gang startin' Whyles fast at night. Then first and foremost, thro' the kai They steek their een, an" graip an' w For muckle anes and straught anes Pour hai '.'=1 Wll foil aff the drift, An' wander'd ihvo' the bow-kail, Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane, They roar an' cry a' throu'ther; The very wee things todlin', rin Wi' stocks out-owre their shoulher ; An' gif the custoc 's sweet or sour, Wi' joctelegs they taste them ; Syne coziely, aboon the door, \Vi' caunie care, they've placed them To lie that nignt. To pou their stalks <■ ,.a He grippet Nelly hard an' fast ; ing each a stock, or plant of kail. They must little, straight or crooked, is prophetic of'lhe spells— the husband or wife. If any yird or tune; and the taste of the custoc, that is, the temper and disposition Lastly, the stems, or to give tbein their ordinary appellation, the jove the head of the i d the ! II They go to the barn-yard, and pull each, at three «xeral times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the top-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage bed any ** When the corn is in a doubtful state, by ';, with a. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. " Are there th it night d« cided : Some kindle c by side gither trimly : So'ne An' Fu' hi § hthat VIII Jfans Wli tell; Bui tl 9 is Joe k, an' this is me. Till white Nell's heart She whisi Rob, stowlii it wi' primsie Mallie ; iparedto Willie; ipont wi' pridefu' fling, ielap, an'swoorbyjing. ieen that night. £L Guid L- Or whe - 'hing held within the p is the Deil rums pas a bauk-en', ls Andrew Bell, Wee Jenny to h( •' Will ye go \ I'll eat the apple XIII. i' megraun at the glasi They name the lad and lass to each partici nut, as they lay them in the tire, accordingly as they burn quietly togeil or start from beside one another, the coi demand Wha hauds ? i. e, who swer will be returned from the naming the Christian and sirnam i the thread, ' Ye little skelpie-lin How daur ye try si, is seek the foul Thief was a gilpey then, I'm sure 'he simmer had been cauld an' v XVI. « Our stibble rig was Rab M'Grai A clever, sturdy fellow ; i Take a candle, and go alone to a looking. glass ; eat an apple before it, and some tradi- tions say, you should comb your hair all the time; the face of your conjugal companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder. § Steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of bemp-seed ; harrowing it with any thing you after me, and harrow thee. ' POEMS. ] She gies the hi r e for the barn she se ;e Tam Kipples That vera night. The auld guid-man rauglit down the pock, Come after me, and draw thee, 4s fast this night. ' country diaJect, « call a wechl, and go through all il.e atti.uc .-s of luting down corn ngaiost the wind. Repeat it three ti the barn, in at the windy door, and < other, having toth the figure in ques the appearance or retinue, marking Syne hauldly in she enters; An' she cried, L— d preserve her ! Out-owre that night. To dip her left sark-sleeve in, Was bent that night. XX. He roar'd a horrid murder shout, XXV. In dreadfu' desperation ! Whyles ower a linn the burnie plays, As thro' the glen it wimpl't : To hear the sad narration s v, ...-,-..■... i -■:-.-■ ; He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw, \\" h vie- in a wielitdimpl't: Or crouchie Y'erran Humphie, Whyles glitter'd to the nightly ravts, Till stop ! she trotted thro' iheia a' ; Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle"; Whyles cookit underneath the braes. Asteer that night ! Below the spreading hazel. Unseen that night. XXI. Meg fain wad to the barn hae gane, XXVI. To win three wechts o' naething ; + Amang the brackens, on the brae, But for (o meet the deil her lane, Between her an' the moon, She pat but little faith in : The deil, or else an oufler quey, Gat up an' gae a croon; * This charm must likewise be per ormed unperceived, and alone. You go to the t Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed. open both doors, taking them off the hit ges, if to a bear-stack, and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the Iasy ime, you will catch in -your arms the appearance of your about to appear, may shut "the doors, £ you some mischief. Then take that iust conjugal yoke-fellow. used in wOrmming the corn, which, n our apparition having the exact figure of the grand mestion, will come and turn the sleev* as if to dry the other side of it. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. lugs she plumpit Wi' a plunge That night. AuM uncle J 3 hn, wbav, tdTock' sjoys Mar's- Beca - dish thrice, He Inwra h tLat light. XXVIII. merry sa ngs, an' fr endly c I wat thi An' l s, and funn Th s were chea '1,11 o'ns.f wi' t huu Se Syne ocial glass Th ey parted aff career n' Fu' blythe that night. AULD FARMER'S I've seen thee dappl't, sleek He should been tight that d: lishes, put clean wat m, and lead him to (1 Sin' thou was my guid father's ineere ; An' fifty mark; rho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear, An' thou was stark. That day, ye pranced wi' muckle pride, When ye bure hame my bonnie bride : An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride, Kyle Stewart 1 could For <" ?-■■ d wide Tho' An' w nTlike dow but hoyl : an' hobble, That day ye was a^nk Far, e<-l»a wauble," tin'. •When thou a Hew thou wad s at fairs wer prance, an' s An' tak the ng and skeigh, e dreigh, nore. an'skreigh, abeigh, Whe n thou v as corn 't, an I was mellow, But every tail thou pay't them hallow, Whare'er thou gaed. The sma', droop -rumpl't, hunter cattle, Wight aiblins waur't thee for a brattle; But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle, An' gar't them whaizle : Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle O' saugh or hazel. Thou was a noble fittie lan*. Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' g'aun, On guid March weather, Hae turned sax rood beside our ban', For days thegither. Thou never braindg't, an' fetch't, an'fliskit, But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit, Till spritty knowes wad rair't an' risket, An' ulypet owre. When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep, I gied thy cog a wee bit heap BURNS.— POEMS. Thou never lap, and sten't, and Then stood to 1 But, just thy step a wee thing h My pie Four gall Forbje sa igh a now thy e, I've se Thai t tin. Keen Theve 'iv. They dre " me )iind.ii Monie An' wi' An' mon efrTwjr tV.uil'l v,l.h< Uol, And think na, my auld, trusty s« rhat now perhaps thou's less deser In* thy auld days may end in starv We've worn to crazy years thegither We'll toyte about wi- ane anither ; Wi" tentie care I'll flit thy tether, TO A MOUSE, Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, what a panic's in thy breastie! Wi' bickering brattle! 1 wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi'murd'ringpaltle! Out thro' thy cell. An' craureuch cauld . But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, Still thou art blest, The present only touc! But Och 1 I backwarc An' forward, though ] A WINTER NIGHT. That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm I How shall jour houseless heads, and unfed Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ?—Shakspeare. V hr n biting Boreas, fell and doure, Sharp shivers through the leafless bow When Phcebus gi'es a short-lived glow Or whirling drift: ie night the storm the steeples rocked, Winch makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-l orn companion An' fellowmorlal ! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve ; What then i poor beastie, thou maun live! 'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, st'ning, the doors a. -'sut^hee^whabT Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing, That in the merry month o' spring, Delighted me to hear thee sing, An' bleak Deceml laith snell and keen ! Even you on mnrd'ring errands toiled, The blood-stained roost, and sheep-cote Epoil DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Now Phebe, in her mic Dark muffled, viewed th( Still crowding thoughts, ilow ye winds, with hea See stern Oppressic n the peaceful rural vale, Truth weeping, tells the mournful ta Ilow pampered Luxury, Flatt'ry by he With all the servile wretches in the i Louks o'er proud property, extended w And eyes the simple rustic hind, Whose toil upholds the glittering s A creature of another kind, Placed for her lordly use'thus far, Ih When Is Love self al To love-pretending snar Shunning soft Pity's risin raj n , this 1 d with a mother's fears shrinks at p this truth impressed my mini EPISTLE TO DAVIE, winds frae aff Ben-Lomon ir the doors wi* driving sn, hing us owre the ingle, lmely westlan' jingle. frosty winds blaw in the d «« tothechimlalug, grudge a wee the great folk's gi That live sae bein and snug : But 1 ir roomy fireside ; inker and canker, ee their cursed pric It's hardly in a body's pow'r To keep at times frae being sour, To see how things are shared ; How best o' chiels are whyles in want. While coofs on countless thousands rait, Is ouly for to beg. n kilns and barns at e' 'he honest heart that's free frai Intended fraud or guile, lowever fortune kick the ba', ile thro' the ruggad roof, and chinky hill o'er his slumbers piles the heap! Think on the dungeon's grim confin Where guilt and poor misfortune pi But shall thy legal rage pursue The wretch already crushed low ■ :iciiou ., s..;ir, ar brothers in disties wall, drifty e' tL-3 And mind still A comfort th Nae mair then, Nae farther c What though like c We wander out we But either house you'll find still, we^ll care 'then, an we fa' IV. ommonersofair r hall ? brother to relieve, how exquisi * David Sillar, or and author of a rail eof theclubat Tarbolton, me of poems in the Scut- Jihook off the t BURNS.— POEMS. ,d blackbirds whistle clear, i honest joy our hearts will bound see the coming year. On braes when we please, then, We'll sit and sowth a tune; uckle m It's no in s no in 1 To ma us truly b [fhappin ess hae no Andce ntre in the We may be wise, or rich, or grea Butne Nae Co uld mak u .'■"■' anr; That makes us right or wrai VI. Think ye, that sic as yon and I, Wha drudge and drive through we Think ye, are we less blest than th Wha scarcely tent us in their « a- As hardly worth their while ? Alas I how oft in haughty mood, God's creatures they oppress ! Or else neglecting a' that's guid, VII. Then let us cheerfu ' acquiesce ; By pining at our state ; And, even should misfortunes come, I here wha sit, hae met wi' some, An's thankfu' for them yet. They gie the wit of age to youth ; it there, ye'll g, vm td joys I for;, And joys the very best. There's a' the pleasures o' the 1 The lover an' the frien'; Ye have your Meg, your dearest .And I my darling Jean ! IX. O all ye Powers who ru O Thou whose very self art Jove : Thou knowest my words sincere The life-blood streaming thro' my Or my more dear immortal part, eroding care and grief nil, ye tender feelings dear ! smile of love, the friendly tear, ie sympathetic glow ; ; since, this world's thorny wa;,s more endearing band, It lightens The ten< To meet w MyDav The' my si..! The ready measure rms as fine As Phoebus and the famous Nine Were glow'rin owre my pen. ^ IP Mil limp, Till ance he's fairly het ; And then he'll hitch, and stilt, and jimp, His sweaty wizen'd hide. THE LAMENT, How life and love DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. I joyless view thy trembling horn Reflected in the gurgling rill : My fondly-fluttering heart be still ! No idly feign'd poetic pains, My sad, love-lorn lamentings claim ; No shepherd's pipe — Arcadian strains j No fabled tortures, quaint and tame; The plighted faith ; the mutual flame; The oft-attested Powers above ; The promised Father's tender name; These were the pledges of my lovel :led in her clasping arms. Oh! canshebeai Th plirr ted husb and of youth A (a,! I;,,' He Then w ho w e s r share S Hei and n ake them vl Ye w nged hours tha sp En aptur ed more, 1 he mo ee " ; ! ' J Awakes me up to toil and woe : That I mns r t S uffer , S Ii^rine, si Full many a pang, and many a thr Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, My toil-b( Keep watchings with the nightly thief: Or if I slumber, fancy, chief. Reigns haggard wild, in sore affright ; Ev'n day, all bitter, brings relief, From such a horror-breathing night. rx. O ! thon bright queen, who o'er th' exnans Now hi- -mdlessswa Oft has thy silent-marking glance Observed us fondly wand 'ring, stray : While love's luxurious pulse beat high, Scenes never, ne ver, to re urn! Scenes, • I forget, Agam I feel, aga From eve ry joy and I'lfwaL ortless, I A faith ess noma n's broken vow. DESPONDENCY: Aburd n more than I ca ibear, Isit , and si S h Olife! thou a tagallin Along rough, Tow Dim ba as I cast _ Wha appear What Too, i-.stly I nayfew? II. Happy, ye sons of busy life. Who, equal to the bustling strife, No other view regard ! Ev'n when the wished end's deny'd, Yet while the busy means are ply'd, They bring their own reward: Whilst I, a hope-abandon 'd wight, You, bustling, and iustli'ng, Forget each grief and pain: •vild v. all-forgot, angling ro Sits o'er his newly g; Or haply, to his ev'ning thought, By unfrequented stream, The ways of men are distant brought, A faint-collected dream ; While praising, and raising His thoughts to heaven on hif: 1 As wand'ring, meand'ring, He views the solemn sky. Less fit to play the pari The lucky moment to im] And just to stop, andjusi With self-respecting ai RLRNS.— POEMS. But ah ! (hose pleasures, 1 COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. INSCRIBED TO R. AITKEN, ESQ- My d ne»t p m d e e ed, 5 a fr i e end h, s 5 es h teeni en a d na To£ io :'.■■' in simple Scottish lays. The na "Wha ive fe S Aitk c elings s cottage wonld have h! tho' his worth unknown, far happier NovemD The do* The mir The erchil II. blaws lc ing trai ud wi' angry sough ng frae the pleugh ; The to'; -w,,rn cotter ft .hi. labour goe.. My griefs it seems to join, The leafless trees my fancy pl( Their fate resembles mine 1 at wee things, t heir dad, wi' fl l all I want (O, do thou gr al ^to eno eq t J hon < do m t i d e en- ;) Belyve the elder bairn At service out arnan DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Comes hame, perhaps, to show a Or deposit her sair-won penny fe To help her parents dear, if th™ ! " be. One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful loving modest pair, V. In other's arms breathe out the tender Wi ' jov nnfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, An' ' each for other's weelfare kindly Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the spiers: ev'ning gale.' The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; The parents, partial, eye their hopeful X. Is there, in human form, that bears a heart— Anticipation forward points the view; The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, Gars auld claes look araaist as weel's the A wretch '. a villain ! lost to love and trnth! That can,wi.h studied, sly, ensnaring art, ir lahours wi' an •e to fear the Lord al July, m nighl Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore his counsel and assisting might : They never sought in vain that sought the Lord VII, But, hark ! a ra, ^Tells how' a neeb Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben ; A strappin youth ; he taks the mother's The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' But Mate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave; What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. ■t-felt raptures 1 bliss I've paced much this weary mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare— ' If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure esome parritch, chief o' Scotia's ings forth in cot e lad, her weel-h: The sire tu The big "ha' BibTe,' P ance ar hU fad". His bonnet rev'renlly is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an glide, He wales a portion with judiciou nd ' Let us worship God !' he a in 2 js, w They chan t the XIII. r artless notes ir sim TlfeyTun a the r hearts, by far th B ..Ob Perhaps D nde, s wild warbling m easu Or pl'ai live Martyrs, worthy of Or noble' Elgir beets the hea 'n-w The .wee Compared est r wish r of Scotia's bo y lays ; these, Italian trills BURNS.- The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures le unison hae they with our Creator's praise. XIV. Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage ■. . •- . ■-.--•■: Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avengini Or, Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. shed; How He, who bore in heaven the Had not on earth whereon to lay his How his first followers and servants s The precepts sage they wrote to n How he, "v by Heaven's commaud, XVI. Then kneeling down to Heaven's eternal Hang, The saint, the father, and the husband Hope « springs exulting on triumphant That thus they all shall meet in future days: There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In all the pomp of method, and of art, Devotion's ev'ry grace," except the heart ! The Pow'r incensed the pageant will desert, The pompons strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well-pleased, the language oi the soul : And in his book of life the inmates poor enrol. XVIII. ten homeward a :* -AT tl The youngling cottagers retire to rest, The parent pair their secret homage pay. And proffer up to Heav'n the warm re quest, That He who stills the raven's clam'rou And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would in the way his wisdom sees tb For them and for their little ones pi But chiefly in their hearts with grace nd lords are but the breath of onest man's the noblest work of i, in fair virtue's heavenly road, a lordling's pomp ! a cumb'rous Be blest with health, and peace, and's And, O: may Heaven their simple OThou! who pour'd the patriotic tide, Tbat stream 'd thro' Wallace's undaunl heart: Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious parv (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. Along the banks of Ayr, spy'd a man, whose aged step Seem'd weary, worn witKtarc lis face was furrow 'd o'er with And hoary was his hair. .n ! while in thy early years, w prodigal of time! Look not alone c n youthful prim Or manhood's Man then is use ruftoh^kinV, Supported is .is right : he edge of life, With cares a d sorrows worn Many and sharp the r ) CABINET LIBRARY. This partial view of human-kind To comfort those that mouru ! xr. O Death ! the poor man's dearest frie A PRAYER IN THB PROSPECT OF DEATH. I. thou unknown Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I must appear! If I have wander'd in those paths Of life I ought to shun: As something loudly, in my breast, Remonstrates I have done ; lit. Thou know'st that Tnou hast formed me Where human weakness has come short, Or frailty slept aside, Do thou All Good ! for such thou art, VIII. See yonder poor, o'eriaboured wight, Where with intention I have err'd, No other plea I have, But Thou art good ; and goodness still Delighleth to forgive. The poor petition spurn, Unmindful tho' a weeping And helpless offspring n IX. If I'm designed yon lordli: By Nature's law design Why was an independent E'er planted in my i ' n I subj* nd? His Or why h. uelty o: STANZAS ON THB SAME OCCASION. Why am I loath to leave this earthly ! I S foun t full < piea: Some drops of joy with draughts of ill b BURNS. - ' Forgive ray foul of- j hould my Author he: a Imight desert fair v n folly's path might g< Then how should I THE FIRST PSALM. The man, in life wherever placed, I Hath happiness in store, | Who walks not in the wicked's way, Nor learns their guilty lore ! Nor from the seat of scornful pride Dvernor of all below, nake the tempest cea That man shall flourish like the Ire, Which by the streamlets grow ; The fruitful top is spread on high, Aud firm the root below. 11 unfit Ifeelmypow'rsto rule their torrent in th' alio e with thy help, Omnipoter Thou dread Pow'r who : I know thou wilt me hea Wnen from this scene of pi I make my prayer sinceri All wretched and di Yet sure those ills tha Obey thy high behe And show what good m She, who her lovely offspring eyes With tender hopes and fears, bless her with a mother's joys, But spare a mother's tears! Their hope, their stay, their darling you In manhood's dawning blush ; Bless him, thou God of love and truth, THE NINETIETH PSALM. hose strong right hand has ever I rheir stay and dwelling place ! DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Those mighty periods of years, Appear no more before thy sight, Tbougav'i Again thou Return 3 Thou layesl n ye into with all tl As with a flood thou tak'st them off With overwhelming sweep. They flourish like the morning flow'r, In beauty's pride array 'd; All wither'd and decay'd. TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY, ON TURNING ONE DOWN WIT! PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786 THB Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, The ministers of grief and pain, A sullen welcome, all! With stern-resolv'd, despairing eje, Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem ; Then low '.ing and pouring, To spare thee now is past my pow'r. Thou bonuie gem. ThoMhick'ning and black'nin'g. Round my devoted head. Alas ! it's no thy neebour sweet, The bonny Lark, companion meet ! IT. Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet And ihou grim power, by life abhorr'd While life a pleasure can afford, When upward-springing, blithe, to g r'eet Oh! hear a wretch's prayer : The purpling east. No more I shrink appall'd, afraid : I court, I beg thy fnendly aid, Cauld blew the bitter-biting north, To close this scene of care • Upon thy early, humble birth ; When shall my soul, in silent peace, Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Resign life's joyless day ; Mv weary heart its throbbings cease, Scarce reared above the parent earth Cold mould'ring in the clay ; Thy tender form. No fear more, no tear more, To stain my lifeless face ; ield. n shield, Within thy cold embrace ! But thou beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble field, Unseen, alane. TO MISS L , There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawy bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head year', GIKT, JAN. 1, 1787. In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, Again the silent wheels of time. And low thou lies! An^ h ylu, a tn^ a lcTc n e d i^rnai d d r en e p n rime Such is the fate of artless Maid, Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, No gifts have I from Indian coasta The infant year to hail ; I send you more than India boasts Low i' the dust. In Edwin's simple tale. Such is the fate of simple Bard, On life's rough ocean luckless Starr Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hs Who long with wb Till wrench'd of e^ 'i'd, sink ! Till crush'd beneatl Shall be thy doom ! All hail ! inexorable lord ! BURNS POEMS. }ur sex with guile and faithless love An Edwin still to you ! EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend, A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae other end Perhaps turu out a sermon. II. Ye'U try the warld soon, my lad Ye'U find mankind an unco squa ^h< E'en when your end's attained ugh! Where ev'ry nerve is strained. Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strifi Their fate we should na censure, For still the important end of life They equally may answer. A man may hae an honest heart, Tho' poortith hourly stare him; A man may tak a neebor's part, V. Aye free affhan' your story tell, When wi' a bosom crony ; But still keep something to voursel 1, .-.,■■, .= . Of beiDg independent. VIII. The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honour grip, Let that aye be your border ; Debar a' side nret'ences : And l- The great Creator to revere, Must sure become the creature ; Yet ne'er with wits profane to range, Be complaisance extended ; An Atheist's laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended ! Or, ifshegie But whe Adieu, dear amiable youth ! Erect your brow undaunting! In ploughman phrase, ' Gcd send you speed,* Still daily to grow wiser; Than ever did th' adviser J ON A SCOTCH BARD Our billie's gi'en ui The bonnie las: For weel I wat they'll sairly miss hi That's owre the sei DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. O Fortune, they hae room to grumble! Ihukt thou ta'en aft' some drowsy bumiutl, Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble, •Twad been nae plea ; But he was gleg as ony wumble, Auld, cantie Ryle may w An' stain them wi' the saul 'Twill mak' her poor auld ] That's owre the se bellyfu'o'drummock, jd independent stomach Could ill agree ; Ye'll find him aye a dainty chid, And fu'o' glee: He wadna wrang'd the vera deil, Fareweel, my rhyme-composing- Your native soil was right ill-willi, But may ye flourish like a lily, I'll toast ye in my hindmost gillie, Tho owre the sea TO A HAGGIS. Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the puddin-race, Aboor them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thaiim Weel are ye wordy of a grace The groaning trencher there ye fill, Like amber bead. His knife see rustic labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails brigl Like onie ditch ; And I tun, O what a glorious si.rhl, Warm-rcekin, ,i c |. Then horn for horn they slret, Deil tak the hindmost, on they Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes Looks down wi' si As feckless as a will His spindle-shank a Hi Thro' bloody flood 01 He'll make it whissle ; An' leg?, an' arms, an* heads will sued, Like taps o' ihrissle. ut, if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r, A DEDICATION. TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid, Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lie, For fear your modesty be hurt. This may do— maun do, Sir, wi' them Maun please the great folk for a wamefu' For me ! sae laigh I needna bow, For, Lord be thankit, I can plough ; And when I dinna yoke a oaig, Then, Lord be thankit, I can beg ; Sae I shall say, and that's nae flatt'rin', It's just sic poet an' sic patron. The Patron, (Sir, ye man forgie in i'ii ti'rj hand i! will allowed be, He's just — nae better than he should I BURNS — POEMS. What's no his aiu he w Ought he can lend he'll no refuse't, And rascals wbyles that do him wrang, Morality, thou deadly bane, Thy tens u* thousands thou hast slain • Vain is bis hope, whose stay and trust Learn three mile pray'rs, an' half-mile looves, an' lang, wry face ; .ardon, Sir, for this But that's a word I need na say : For prayin' I hae little skill o't; I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't ; For that san ege i'rous s May K 3 far ho Lang beet hi ~i neneal i Are frae her ...pt ll'fobo Five bonnie 1 And seven br ]'v. To serve the gandc By word, or May health a Till his wee e John' When ebbin = Mt'e The last, sad , mo urnful r I will not mind a lang conclusion, iut whilst your wishes and endeavours ire bless'd with Fortune's smiles and favours, am, dear Sir, with zeal most fervent, four much indebted humble servant. But if (which Pow'rs above prevent ! ; By il ind black While hope joys, and plea r numb l '"n a dog as For i 1, mblyser 1 by a po TiOD 's hopes 's power in H isgi ir. n the v - •A'' e, Th fortune's strii I, thro' the ide - ■ - Sho uld recc g° ze r de hen, Sir, your hand — my friend and brother! TO A LOUSE, « SEEING ONE ON A LADTj's BONNET AT s. ! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin' ferlie ? Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle ; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and spral(l< Wi" ither kindred, jumpin' cattle, In shoals and nations : Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle Your thick plantations. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Now baud you ikere, ye're out o' si Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight : Na, faith ye jet ! ye'll no be right My sooth I right bauld ye set your ncs As plump and grey as ouie grozet ; ' Or fell, redsme'ddum, I'd gi'e you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droduu I wad na been surprised to spy You on an auld wife's flannen toy ; Or aiblins some tit duddie boy, Oa'swyliecoat; But Miss's fine Lunardiel fie, How dare ye doV O Jenny, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread ! Ye little ken what cursed speed Theblastie's maki,,', Thae winks and finger ends, I dread, ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH. Where once, beneath a monarch's feet. Sat legislation's sovereign powers ! From marking wildly scatter'd flowers, As ou the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And siuging, lone, the lingering hour=, I shelter in thy honour'd shade. II. : ;:■?■■[■-,-. ■ ,i 1; ;..;,■,;: ..'. As busy trade his labours plies ; Bids elegance and splendour rise ; Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, VViih open arms the stranger hail ; "'-'- Tiews enlarged, their liberal mind, Ahoy. Or modest it claim IV. Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn Gay as the gilded summer sky, Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn, Dear as the raptured thrill of j'j '. is work indeed divine 1 Thy rough rude fortress gleams afar : Like some bold veteran grey in arms, And mark'd with many a seamy seui : Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock : Have oft withstood assailing war, And oft repell'd tb' invader's shock. With awe-struck though t andpityi ag te I VI ely dome, Wher s kings of Famed heroe s, had their royal he Alas! The ame low in the dus Their hapless ace wild wand 'ring roam Tho' rigid law ci Wild beats my heart to trace your steps, Whose ancestors in days of yore, Old Scotia's bloody lion bore : E'en I who sing in rustic lore, Haply my sires have left their shed, And faced grim danger's loudest roar, Bold following where your fathers led. eath a monarch's fee!, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, tnd singing, lone, the lingering hours, I shelter'd in thy honour'd shade. EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK, D, APRIL l=t, 1": I This freedom in an unknow I pray «, iOn fasten-een we had a l And there was inuckle fun Ye need At length we had a hearty There was ae sang amang the rest, Aboon them a' it pleased me best, That some kind husband had address 'd They tauld n Dan this be Pope, or S Or Beattie's wark ! 'twas an odd kind cb About Muirkirk. BURN'S. bed sae weel, An' either d ouce or merry tale, Or rhymes Or witty catches, He had few matche 1 to the erambo-j ingle fell, Tho'rudean'rouil). Yet crooning to a body's seP Does weel eneugh. I am nae poet, in a sense, But just a rhymer, like, by chance, An' hae to learning nae pretence, Yet, what the malM : Whene'er my muse does on me glance, I jingle at her. Wsay c folk may cock tr los? can you e'er ] n hardly verse fraf They gang it stirks An' syne they think I winna blaw about mysel ; As ill I like my faults to tell ; iiut friends, and folk that wisl They sometit There's ae wee faut they whyles lay to I like the lasses— Quid forgie me ! Fur monie a plack they wheedle frae me May be some ither thing they gie me They weel can spare. light's discharge to c; If we forgather, The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter An' kirsen him wi' reekin' water; Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter, To cheer our heart ; An, faith, we'se be acquainted better Before we part. : ye whom social plea ;e hearts the tide of ki Come to my bowl, c My friends, my brothers ! ' But, to conclude my lang epistle. TO THE SAME. While new ca'd kye rout at the st This hour on e'enin's ed|e 1 take, To own I'm deb To honest-hearted auld Lapraik, DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Quo' she, • Yeken je'vebe. This montl That trouth my head is grov Sae I got paper in a blink. An' down gaed stumpie in the ink : Quoth I, ' Before I sleep a wink, My worthy friend, r Bui, by the L -d, tho' I should beg, Wi' lyart pow, I'll laugh, an' sing, an' shake my leg, As lang's I dow ! But yet, despite the Do ye envy the cit Behint a kist to lie a Or purse-proud, big Id some bit brugh tc 0* is't the paughty feudal "H'ha thinks himself nae sheep-shank bane, But lordly stalks. While caps an* bonnets aff are taen, As by he walks : ■ O Thou wha gies us each guid gift ! Gie me o' wit and sense a lift, Then turn me if Thou please adrift Thro' Scotland wide ; Wi' cits nor lairds I would not shift. Were this the charter of our state, ' The social, friendly, li.,ne-i "man, 'lis ha fulfils great A'ature's plan, O mandate glorious and divine ! The followers o' the ragged Nine, Poor glorious devils ! jet may shine In glorious light, While sordid sons of .Mammon's line le forest's fright ; ay shun the light. In some mild spher in friendship's ties, Each passing year. I gat vour lette Wi' g'ralefu' in Tho' I maun s; Your flatterin 1 e believe ye kindly me: ailh to think ye hinted ire sidelins sklenled Icphraisin' terms ye 'v BURNS — P0E.M3. (O Fergusson ! thy glorious par la 111 suited law's dry musty arts, M? curse upon jour whunstane hearts Ye E'nbrugh Genln The tithe o' what ye waste at cartes. I kittle up ray n __ Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fain, Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fair She's go" - Chiels w Till echoes all resound at Nae poet thought her worth his while, Beside New-Holland, Or whare wild-meerinjr oceans boil Besouth Magellan. "Kiss* Th' IUissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine, Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line I But, Willie, set vour fit to mine, An' cock your crest, We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells. Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells, Her banks an' braes her dens an dells, Where glorious Wallace Aft bure the gree, as story tells, Frae southern billies. At Wallace 5 name what Scottish blood Oft have our fearless f y Wallac Still pressing onward, red w Or gloriou: An' jinking hare While thro' the chant among the buds, TneirTveTenjoy', ' bra-, die cushat croods With wailfu' cry ! eak has charms to me Or frost on bills of Ochillre. ary grey ; ™ e 4e n r7hrsummer e kindly a warms mS ' Wi' life an' light, Or winter howls in gusty storms, The lang, dark night I The warly race may d, Hog shoutber, jundie, SI Black fiend infernal ! While highlandmen hate tolls and tax. POSTSCRIPT. My memory's no worth a preen By thi ,ght,. .Mai: : aft hae fight, were but callans In days when man At grammar, lojic, They took nae pains But spak their th In thae auld times, they thought the moon, Wore by degrees, till her last roon, Gaed past their viewing. This past for certain, undisputed ; Till chiels gat up an^ wadVnfute it,' ' An' muckle din there was about it, Baith loud and lam;. Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the buik, Wad threap auld folk the thin? misteuk i For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. send you, Kol Should think they b< Aii' sotne to learn them for Were har This game was play'd in An' auld-light caddies bun That faith the youngsters t< Till lairds forbade, by stric An' some, their Ye'll find ane plac' new-light fair avow, Just quite barefac'd. Nae doubt the Their zealous he Mysel', I've eve To hear the moo auld-light flocks are tt Wi"girn?u ?r s e p e it'e n , a sae sadly lie 'don By word an' write. But shortly th Some auld-light y will cowe the loun ttings they ca' ballooi To tak' a flight, Guid observation they will gi 'e fbem : An' when the auld moon's ^aun to lr-a'p tlir-n The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' then EFISTLE TO J. RANKINE. ENCLOSING SOME POEMS. idy-witted Rankine, O Rough, The wale o' cocks for There's monie godly folks an Yours dreai And then their failings, flaws, an w Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it ; That holy robe, O dinna tear it I t for their But your ct Think, wicked sinner, whaye'r 0' saunts ; tak that, ye lea^e tliet To ken them by, Frae ony unregenerale heathen aff their back, whaye're staithing, idling Yon sent you here some rhyming « »ng,■^ye'Use W, Tho' faith, sua' he My muse dow scarce!; I've play'd mysel a bl I'd better gaen and so 'Twr s ae night la 1 ro J in S "?' .-ought a paitr is the twilight w Thought uane wad ken The poor wee thing was little hurt ; e'er thinkin' they wad fash me for't ; Some auld us'd hands had ta'e "hat sic a hen had got a shot ; was suspected for the plot ; I scorn'd to lie io gat the whissle o' my groat, An' pay't the f< in' by my pouth. in'byh g be had promised the Author. BURNS.— POEMS. [ should herd the buckskin kye :arce thro the feathers ; George to claim, i' thole their blethers ! JOHN BARLEYCORN,* They took a plough and plough'd him do And they hae sworn a solemn oalb John Barleycorn was dead. But the cheerfu' spring came kindly on, And show'rs began to fall; Juhn Barleycorn got up again, 'Twill make your courage rise XIV. 'Twill make a man forget his w< 'Twill heighten all his joy: A FRAGMENT. Tune—" GillicrankiL-. They'v ta'en a we ong and sharp, ut him by t Then ti ed him fast Like a rogue for e- Till. They laid him ddw And udgel'd him full They hung him up ; f..r Aud urn'd him r •era d o'er. * This is partly co tnpos d on the plan of old song k now" by Ih name. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin Guid Christian blood to draw, man ; But at New-York, wi* knife and fork, Sir-loin he hacked sma', man. is way, ae misty day, In Saratoga shaw, man. The moon was s h.ning clearly; Corowallis fought as lang's he dought, I set her down, w 'right good will, An' did the buckskins claw, mau ; He hung it to the wa', man. nd owre again V. Ainang the rigs Then Montague, an' Guildford too, III. And SackviUe Joure, wha stood the stoure, I lock'd her in my Her heart was b Poor Paddy Burke, like onie Turk, My blessings on tb at happy place. Nae mercy had at a', man ; Amang the rigs o' barley ! An' Charlie Fox threw by the box, nd stars so bright, ThatshonTt'hat 1 hour so clearly! She aye shall bles that happy night, VI. Than n^L-;^!,™ Innl, nn fV.o o-omo • Amang the rigs o' barley. Then Rockingham took up the game ; Till death did on him ca\ man ; When Shelburne meek held up his che VIL Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes, He swept the stakes awa', man, Till the diamond's ace of Indian race, The Saxon lads, wi' loud placad's, On Chatham's boy did ca\ man; And Scotland drew her pipe, an' blew, "Up, Willie, waur them a', man!" VIII. Behind the throne then Grenville's gone, While slee Dundas arous'd the class Be-north the Roman wa', man : An' Chatham's wrailh, in heavenly graith, (Inspired bardies saw, man) Wi' kindling e-,es, c-rj'J, " Willie, rise ! Would I ha'e fear'd them a', man ?" But word an' blow, North, Fox, and ( Gowff'd Willie like a ba\ man, Till Suihrons raise, and coost their claii To see me thro' the t :n blyfhe wi' comrades dear ; mjoyfu' gath Yin gear: SONG, COMPOSED IN ACl 1 slaught'ring guns, And the moon shines bright, whea I rove at To muse upon my charmer. II. The partridge loves the fruitful fells : The wo P odcock°haunts the lonely dells ; The soaring hern the fountains : Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves The path of man to shun it; The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush. The spreading thorn the linnet. KNS.—POEMS. VII. tuld guidma.s IV. But Peggy dear, theev'ning's dear. Thick flies the skimming swallow i The sky is blue, (he fields in view. All fading-green and yellow : Come let us stray our gladsome waj , The rustlin corn, the fruited thorn, And ev 'ry happy creature. V. We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, Till the silent mor" -«" - — -' Not autumn to the farmer, My fair, my lovely charmer '. SONG. Tune—" My Nannie, O. " L Behind yon hills where Stinchar flows, Mang moors an' mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has closed, And I'll awa to Nannie, O. My Nannie 'scharn ing, sw eet, an' Nae artf May ill bef i' the fl my in N* ongue That wad beguile inie, 0. IV. Her face is fair, he ss as sh e, 0: Nae pur r is that i Nannie V. ,0. ad is ray degree. An' few there be that ken But what are I ho w few th I'm welcome aye to Nanr ie, O. VI. My riches An' Im e, 0; But wart's My thou : ji t , •„-, a' my IS annie, ( GGEEN GROW THE BASHES. Green grow the rashes, O ! Greeu grow the rashes, O ! The sweetest hours that e'er I speii Are spent amang the lasses, O '. There's nought but care on ev'rj ha In ev'ry hour that passes, O ; Ul.ai sijnilies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the lasses, O. ches still may fly them, From thee, Eliza, I must go, For it's jet, jet black, and it's li e a hawk, And from my native shore : An' it wicna let a body be. f The cruel fates between us throw Between my^^nd mef They never, never can divide My heart and soul from thee. * This chorus is'part of a song c omposed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a panic ular friend f Menie is a common abbreviatio n of Mari- II. ^ We cannot presume to alter Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, ially those The maid that I adore ! et it is to be A boding voice is in mine ear, We part to meet no more ! But the last throb that leaves mv he- train of sentiment which they escit errupts the While death stands victor by, That throb, Eliza, is thy part. And thine that latest sigh : SONG. Tune—" Roslin Castle." I. The gloomy night is gath'ring fast, Loud roars the wild inconstant blast, Along the lonely banks of Ayr. The Autumn mourns her ripening cc By early Winter's ravage torn ; A,-ro_-= her placid, azure sky, ™i;; a danger I must da bonnie banks of Ay o? a m. surging billow's ro fatal deadly shore : n every shape appea Farewell, my friends, farewell, my foes ! My peace with these, my love with those — The'bursting tears my heart declare, Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr ! BURNS — POEMS. THE FAREWELL, I e ; u u Time— " Good night and joy be wi' I. Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu. Dear brolhers of the miiilc tie ' Ye favour'd, ye enligbten'd few, big-belly'd bottle still eases my ci IT. The wife of my hosom, alas ! she did die ; For sweet consolation to church I did fly ; ! I found that old Solomon proved it fair, I 'I hat a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all ci I onci i= tr- aded a v, I me that Oft have I net yonr soc al band, the L^rfu festive night Oft honour' -. Presided And by tha .■;;.;,!, b bright, Which n Strong men: eart shall writ Those happy s cues v hen far awa'. III May freedom, ha and love, Unite yo d design, Beneath th ye above, The glor That you n v k' he plu Still risn -':> Till order b right ely shine, _ Shall be my p aj'rVhen far awa. ' IV And you, ft rewell! wh Justly th i highest ba Heav'n ble r'd, noble na To masor a dear .' •st, p n™±5 ar!y ea T'' blea\ SONG. Tune — ''Prepare, my dear Brethren, to ll No churchman am I for to rail and to write, For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of n II. The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow ; I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low ; But a club of good fellows like those that a And a bottle like this, are my glory and care Here passes the squire on his brother — I With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. VI. For a [A Stanza added in a Mason Lodge.] Then fill up ; And honours May every t square, Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd v FRIAR'S GARSE HERMITAGE, Thou whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed. Be thou counsels on thy soul. May delude the thoughtless pair ; Let prudence bless enjoyment's cup, Then raptured sip, and sip it up. As thy day grows warm and high, Dost thou spurn the humble vale? Dangers, eagle-pinion'c id each cliffy While cheerful peace, v Chants the lowly dells a * Young's Night Thought?. DIAMOND ling close, life itself becomes CABINET LIBRARY. O, bitter mock'rv While down Saws of experience, sage and soun Is not, Art thou high or low ! Did thy fortune ebb or flow ? Did many talents gild thy span ? Or frugal nature grudge thee one ? Tell them, and press it on their mi As Ihou thyself must shortly find, The smile or frown of awful Heavi There solid self-enjoyment lies ; That foulii.li, selfish," faithless «i. To the bed of lasting s'eep; Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er av \ iiiu where dawn shall never bre Till future life, future no more, To light and joy unknown before. Si ranger, go ! Heaven be thy gu Quod the beadsman of Nith-sidc. Dweller in yon dungeon dark, Hangman of creation! mark Who in widow-weeds appears, Laden with unhonour'd years, Noosing with care a bursting pur Baited with many a deadly curse Pity's flood ther See those hands Hands that took erof le goes, unpitied, and unb: ut not to realms of e\erlasli ANTISTROPHE. irmies, lift thine eyes, ear, ye tort 'ring fiends,) ingel, hurl'd from upper sk :k'ry of the pompous bi the wretched vital part Iged beggar, with a t rags, unknown, and goes to Heaven. CAPTAIN MATTHEW HENDERSON, HO HELD THE PATENT t now his radiant course is A matchl ss heavenly light Death ! thou tyrant fell and bloody ; He's gane, he's gane ! I The ae best fellow e'er was Thee, Matthew, Nature's s PU Fraeman° Ye hilli . That proudly cock yi Ye cliffs, the haui " oi sailing yearns, Where echo slumber, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns My wailing numbe. s Wi' toddlin din, ly fox-gloves fair to see ; Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie grassy blade it fragrance sh hell-w: d plie. It'ring pounds a yea Mourn, sooty Ye fisher heron. Ye duck and dri ' Circling Xe W i a S! Mown, clam'ring craik? ^ ." Wham we deplor. Ye houlets frae your ivy bow'r, What time the moon, wi' silent glc Sets up her horn, Wail thro' the dreary midnight hoi Till waukrife mor o ive s, forests, hills, a ad plains ! jf: I ye heard my canty Bui what else for me But tales An" my een the drappi Mann eve flow. Mc , spring, thou dar ing of the y Ilk c Thou ,si Shoots up ^"heia!" Thy gay green, flow'ry tr Wide o'er the naked world declare ' ON THE APPRO.A CH OF SPKIK The worth we've lost ! Now Nature hangs her mantle green Mourn him, thou sun, great source oflight ! On every blooming tr Mourn, empress of the silent night ! »' daisies whit And you, ye twinkling s'arnies bright, My Matthew mourn ! Now Phoebus cheers the For through your orbs he's ta'en his flight, And glads tbe azure kiesj IS e'er to return. Eut nought can glad th That fast in durance _ weary wight Henderson ! the man, the brother ! And art thou gone, and gone for ever * Now lav'rocks wake th merry morn. Aloft on dewy wing ; Life's dreary bound! Tbe merle, in his noont Like thee, where shall I find another, Makes woodland echo The world around ! Th Sin D gs T dro I v f 1 s, day To ny^anote, Go to your sculptured tombs, ye great. Wi' care nor thrall o But by the honest turf I'll wait, Thou man of worth • Now blooms the lily by the bank, Theprimros E'er lay in earth. The hawthorn's buddin And milk-wbite is th gintheVen. The meanest bind in fa r Scotland, THE EPITAPH. .y story's brief; For Matthew was a great -POEMS. A look of For Ma P ,hew h wi r a % man. If thou a noble sodger art, That passes', by this grav There moulders here a galls For Matthew was a brav KSL If thou on Canst t For Ma men, their tv'ha weel li d won thy praise If thou at Wad li Thy symp friendship* n, rn kfnd dca', fa', If thon art staunch withou Like the unchanging blu This was a kinsman o' thy For Matthew was a true i? : For Matthew was a PIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. nds I No heels to bear hit But as for thee, thou false M Grim v ngeance, yet, shall w jet a sw That shall ga The we Was othee; Nor th' balm that dra pson w Frae woman's pitying e'e. tethy mother's fae; earts to thee ; meet'st thy mother' from the opening dun ; No horns, but those by luckless Hym And those, alas ! not Amalthea's hoi No nerves olfactory, Mammon's trusi Clad in rich dulness' comfortable fur. In naked feeling, and in aching pridi He bears the unbroken blast from eve Vampyre booksellers drain him to thi Critics— appall'd, I venture on the Those cut-throat bandits in the paths Bloody dissectors, worse than ten Mi He hacks to teach, they mangle to ex norn! Foil'd, bleeding, tortur'd, in the unei strife. The hapless poet flounders on through life, o' death Till fled each hope that once his bosom fire And fled each muse that glorious once deck the spring. Low sunk in squalid, unprotected age, Dead even resentment for his injured page, He heeds or feels no more the ruthless crit TO ROBERT GRAHAM, Esq One shakes Thou |iv"s" The cit and polecat stink The priest and hedge-hog in their robes ai But Oh ! thou bi To thy poor, fe Bard! So, by some hedge, the generous steed d For balf.starv'd snarling curs a dainty feast Lies senseless of each tugging bitch's son, depress'd, O dulness ! portion of the truly bless'd ! oVt's wail v Calm shelter 'd haven of eternal rest! Thy sous ne'er madden in the fierce extreme °ng ^^er Of fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams. With sober selfish ease they sip it up : ing trade ! Conscious the bounteous meed they well il arraigu ; They only wonder, « some folks' do not star' The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog found, And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog. When disappointment snaps the clue of hop And thro' disastrous night they darkli grope, With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear, guards his So, heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks. Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox Not so the idle muses' mad-cap train, with their Not such the workings of their moon-slru ir robes are In equanimity they never dwell, By turns in soaring heaven, or vaulted hell. J spear and I dread the fate, relentless and severe, With all a poet's, husband's, father's fear BURNS.— rOEMS. With many a filial tear circling the bed ol i Thick mists, obscure. I Tho' oft I turn 'd then Nae ray of fame was Thou found 'st me like I That melts the fogs ii I he friendless bard and Became alike thy fosl And as he tun'd his doleful sang, The winds, lamenting thro' their caves, To echo bore the notes alang. " Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing, The relics of the vernal quire '. Ye woods that shed on a' the winds The honours of the aged year I A few short months, and glad, and gas , Why did I live to see that day ! A day to me so full of woe! 0! had I met the mortal shaft Which laid mybenefactor low ! " The bridegroom may forget the b Was made his wedded wife yestrf The monarch may forget the crown That on his head an hour hath be The mother may forget the child Tbat smiles sae sweetly on her ki But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, da' that thou hast done for im And my last hald of earth is gan Thou, who thy honour as thy God rever'st, Who, save thy mind's reproach, nougl earthly fear'st, To thee this votive off'ring I impart, •' The tearful tribute of a broken heart." The friend thou valued'st, I the patron lov'd Unheard, unpitied, unrelieved, TAM O' SHANTER : "And last, (the sum of a' my griefs') The flower amang our barons bold, On forward wing for e\er flel. '•- Awake thy last sad voice, my harp ! 'I'he voice of woe and wild despair ; An' folk begin to tak the gate ; While we sit bousing at the nappy, An' gettin' fou an' unco happy, We think na on the lang Scots mjfes; That lie bet'ween us'and^u^hami, "' Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Gathering ber brows lite gathering si Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. (Aula Ayi For hones th fand honest Tarn o' Shanle. Ayr ae u ght did canter, t men and bonny lasses. )* ! hadst thou but been sae wise, ay ain wife Kat, e [Sove l skelluin, ;ow, do thy speedy utmo: But ere the key-stane she conld ma The fient a tail she had to shake ! i L r >:.mnie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble fesie ;,ress'd, nd her ain griv tail : ft poor Maggie scarce a stum; Inhuman May ne Nor ever sted be !hy m ver pity sooih pleasure glad 'the' uel heart pr The bitter little that ofth flife reTair d field No mo re the thicken ngb akes and verdar To thee shall h me, or food, or pastim e yield Seek, ma ogled wretch som place of wonte The s e of r ?S now thy dying •er'th The cold earth with thj dy bosom press'd Oft as by The so And curs ha wind sthee D °ofha =--'_ r:; ;' , Im Ithe C the e dewy .im' l'i' ON CROWNING HI3 BUST AT EDNA BUKGHSHIRE, WITH Bj» £S While virgin Spring, by Eden's floo Unfolds her tender mantle green, Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, While Summer, with a Retreats to Drjburglr Yet oft, delighted, stops ^ l»^= The progress of the spiky bladf WTiile Autumn, benefactor kind, By Tweed erects his aged heac ding si DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. While maniac Winter The hills whence cla Or sweeping, wild, ■ The poor m But with si May I be A BARD'S EPITAPH. EPITAPHS. Krre souter John in death does sleep : Toheil, if he's gane thither, Satan, gie him thy gear to keep, ON A NOISY POLEMIC. ON WEE JOHNNY. Hicjacei wee Johnny. •t thou art, O reader, know, FOR THE AUTHOR'S FATHER. O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains, The pitying heart that felt for hnm: The' dauntless heart that fear'd FOR R. A. Esq. Is there a whim-inspired fool, Owr ;> = • t\ Ov.r Mate o seek, owre proud to snool, A -id »wre tL is grassy heap sing dool, Is there a bard of rustic song, V.'li , r.r,:e'. ss, steals the crowds among, Tha weekl. 0, pass not by ! Eat, with a frater-feeling strong, Here heave a sigh. t'et runs, himself, life's mad career, lere pause — and, through the starting tsar, Survey this grave. U thoughtless follies Reader, attend—whether thv soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole. Or darkly grubs this earthly hole, ON THE LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S PEREGRTXATIOXS THROUGH SCOTLAND; COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THJ T Hear, Land o* Ca kes, and brither Scots Frae Mai denkirk o Johnny If there's a hole i SJ5, Achield' samang Yoa.VIki And, Haiti ng notes, , he'il pren If in your bounds ve chat ce to light Upon a fi 0' statur ne, fat, fodgel wi J ,-ei..'J- bright, fhat 's he mark weel- e And raw ! he has an unco sleight O'cauk and keel. By some auld, honlet-haunted biggin,* Or kirk, deserted bv its riggin, It's ten to ane ye 'II find him snug in Wi* deils, they say, L -d safe's ! colleaguii Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chamer $"e gipsy-gang that deal in glamor, qu 'ye^'la'nilht'bitehM. It's tauld he was a sodger bred, Of Eye's first fire he has a cinder: Auld Tubal-Caiu's fire-shool and fende: That which distinguished the gender He'll prove you" i Or lang-kail gnll But wad ye see him in his glee, For meikle glee and fun has he, Then set him down, and twa or thi inty chiel, O Grose ! They sair misca'' tl B Vide his Antiquities of Scotland. POEMS. TO MISS CEUIKSHANKS. Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay, Blooming on thy early May, Ne-.vr niav'st thou, lovely flow 'r, Chill;, =iirink in sleety show'r! Never Boreas' boary path, Never Eurus' pois'nous breath, Never baleful stellar lights. Taint thee with untimely blights ! Never, never reptile thief Riot on thy virgin leaf ! Nor ever Sol too fiercely view Thy bosom blushing still with dew ! Dropping dews, and breathing balm, And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings ; Shed thy dying houo SONG. Anna, thy charms my bosom fire, VY'hen'faled to despair?* """' Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair, IN READING, ET A NEWSPAPER, THE DEATH OF JOHN M'LEOD, ESQ. Sweetly deck'd with pearly dew And so that heart was DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Dread Omnipotence, alone, Can heal the wound he gave ; Can point the brimful grief- worn eyes To scenes beyond the grave. Mv Lord, I know yo ur noble e \v Emb beg you'll Yo ur humble slav e complain 11 J w In fllmYnfsnmm Do- withering, was d drink my cry stal tide. The ighfly jumping glowrin t Thai thro' my wa tersplay, Th ey near the margin stray If, 1 ill--, limr. Pr so shallow They In gasping death to wallow Last day I grat, wi spite and aeby, Tin , to a bard I should be se negyr Buth; : ,-!,;,„„ •Ill/go Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks, There, high "my boiling torrent smokes, Wild-roarine o'er a linn : :h spring and well Asm e then Would then my noble master pleas To grant my highest wishes, He'll shade my banks wi' tow'rin And bonnie spreading bushes ; Delighted doubly then, my Lord, And listei Return nony a grateful bird du tuneful thanks. The sober laverock warbling Shall to the skies aspire ; The blackbird strong, the II In all her locks of yellow This too, a covert shall ins And here, by sweet Shall Despisir eye the snuking, dewy lawn, ad misty mountain, grey; Or, by the reaper's nightly beam, ifty firs, and ashes cool, lowly banks o'erspread, And'view, deep-bending in the pool, Their shadows' watery bed! st fragrant birks in woodbines dn My craggy cliffs adorn ; Ami for the little songster's nest, " e close embow 'ring thorn. , To screen the dear < 'ith all their wealth ie in all their charms en to grace, fragrant arms So may o' Your li Spring, li ', Jari; And Alhole's bonnie lasses ! " ON SCARING ROME WATER-FOWL, on loch-tukit; Why, ye tenants of the lake, For me your watery haunt fors Tell me, fellow-creatures, whj At my presence thus you fly ? Why disturb your social joys, Parent, filial, kindred ties ? you and me > all at Plumes himself in Freedom '5 pride, Tyrant stern to all beside. The eagle, from the cliffy brow, - Marking you his prey below. In his breast no pity dweUs, Strong necessity compels. But man, to whom alone is giv'n A ray direct from pitying heav'r., Glorious in his heart humane— In these savage, liquid plains, Only known to wand'ring swains, "let strays: Far from hu. All on Natur And life's po Or, if mat WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL , savage journey curious, I pursue, 11 famed Breadalbane opens to my view te meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen di- le woods, wild-scalter'd, clothe their amph outstretching lake, embosom'd hills, eye with wonder and amazemi The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless ha The village, glittering in the noontide be; The sweeping theatre of hanging wools ; Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-tanght lyre, And look through nature with creative fire : Here, to the uFo:i£s t fate h.uf reconciled, Misfortune's lighten'd steps might wands And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds, Find balm to soothe her bitter rankling .POEMS. beart-strnck Grief might heaveii-wi njured Worth forget and pardon man. WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL, 221 Till i'u When . t'ur.: he rocky mounds, Ashig As ■' !< Prone ing^ s foam below, re whitening shoot de i. POSTHUMOUS CHILD, FAMILY I ISTKES Sweet Flow'ret, And ward 0' n What heart 0' s Sae helpless, pled? -"'•:■ - o'meil prayer, " Chili Should hirple ithy 1 'the! 'rm J 63 ' May He who giv And wings th Protect thee frae The bitter fro esthe blast rain to p DIAMOND CABINET LIERARY. THE WHISTLE: ., 1= ,;;11 here give it._ >f Denmark, when she c pion of Bacchus. He had a little ebony Whistle which at the commencement of the orgies he laid on the table, and whoever was last able to blow it, every be-dy else being dis- abled bv the potency of the bottle, was to carry off the"Whistle as a trophy of victory. "" oduced credentials of hagen, Stockholm, Moscow, W several of the petty courts in G( challenged the Scots Bacchanalia! ternative of trying his prowess, c Till Robert, the lord of the Cairn and the Scaur, Unmatch'a at the bottle, unconquer'd in war, He drank his poor godship as deep as the if the Baltic e'er drunker than he. Robert victorious, the trophy has low in his house has for ages re- Till three noble chieftains, and all of his he jovial contest again have renew'd. Three joyous good fellows, with hearts clear Cr^igdarroch began, with a tongue smooth , in claret, try which was t) n the Whistle his requiem shrill. !y the gods of the anciei s._On Friday the 161 of October 1790, at Friars Carse "the ' on tended fur, a = r.i"l the ballad, resent Sir Robert Law Masweltoi ; Robe t Riddel L H . of Gle del, lineal Jaiit and Walter Riddel, w e \\L Vli,",' :• whose family it ha 1 .lie:- fcenSrf Esq. of the gre at Sir Robert; whicl gentleman carried off the the field. And bumper his horn with him twenty times rt, a soldier, no speech would pre- But he ne'er tutn'd his back on his foe— or his friend. Said, Toss down the Whistle, the prize of the ■et, he'd die or boM I sing of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth, I sing of a Whistle, the priJe of the North, Was brought to the court of our good Scottis! And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring. i of Fingal, va from his to Scotland yield. To the board of Glen And tell future ag( And wish'd that The dinner bein .'rv u, er, the claret they ply, ; a new spring of joy, ids of old friendship and kindred so ids grew the tighter the more they BURKS.— POEMS. Gay pleasure ran Bright Phoebus n forlorn, Till Cynthia hinlec riot as bumpers ran o'e leave theui he was qu he'd see them next mor Six bottles a-pi ce had well worn out When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the figh Then worthy Glenriddel, •r the i g Elder „,i , He left the foul business to folks less divine. The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the But who can with fate and quart bumpers con- tend ? Though fate said— a hero should perish in loabus and down fell Next up rose our bard, like a prophet ii «• Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creatioi shall sink ; But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme Come— one bottle more -and have at the sub lime! " Thy line, that have struggled for Freedon SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE, I'm three limes doubly o'er your debtor, For jour auld-farrent, frien'ly letter ; Tho' I maun say't, I doubt ye flatter, Ye speak so fair s For my puir, silly, rhymin' clatter, Hale be your heart, hale be your fii Tae cheer you through * This is prefixed to the poems of David Sillar, published at Kilmarnock, 17S9, and has not before appeared in our author's printed But Davie, lad, I'm red ye'er glaikit ; I'm tauld the Muse ye ha" An'gifit'ssae, ye sud be lickit Until ye fyke ; Sic bans as you sud ne'er be faikit, Be hain't wha like. Forme, I'm on Parnassus' brink, Rivin' the words tae gar them clink ; Whyles daez't wi' love, whyles dae: An' whyles, but aye owre late, I think, Of a' the thoughtles: Commen' me to the 1 Except it be some id O' The devil-haet, that ON MY EARLY DAYS. irst^onirthiesh^hTbarn ; wi' the lave ilk merry morn mid rank my rig and lass, No nation, n< My envy e' A Scot still, 1 I knew nae But still the elem( In formless iumbl. Wild ft DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Th' increasing bias rocks, The clouds, swifi -m. rJSky ' The groaning trees har'st 1 said before, SONG. Tunc— "Bonnie Dundee." ... Mauchline there dwells six proper young the place and its neighbour- The Miss 1 ,MUs SIR JAMES HUNTER BLAIR. The lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare, Th' inconsta'nt blast howl'd thro' the darl ing air, And hollow whistled in the rocky cave. Or mused where lim well,? Or mould 'ring rui lehallow'd red fane. || * The reader will find some explanation c f This 'is one of our Bard's early prodnc tions. Miss Armour is now Mrs Burns. i The King's Park at Holyrood-house. St Anthony's Well. I! St Anthony's Chapel. roar'd round the beetlim wing'd, flew o'er the star ntimely shed their locks, sore caught the slardinj Wild to my heart the filial pulses glov 'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I Her form majestic droop'd in pensive i Reversed th at spear, redoubtable in war, Reclin'd that banner, erst in fields furl' That like a d'eathful meteor gleam'd afar, And bra ed the mighty monarchs of worl i — "wuTacc t son fills an untimely grave ! ' the hand that oft was stretch' "Low' lies Low lies he heart that swell'd with hor Relentless • My patrio dom's blossoms richly blow ! has laid the guardian low ;, but shall he lie unsung, "And I will join Thro' future tin That distant yi ■< life- BURNS — POEMS. i And the Moro Ion was laid at the sound ol drum. Lal de daudle, &c. III. I lastly was with Curtis, among the floa And there I left for witness an arm an THE JOLLY BEGGARS: And now though I must beg with a And many a tatler'd rag hanging ov When lyart leaves bestrow the j Or wavering like the bauekie-bi I'm as happy with my wallet, my bot Bedim cauld Boreas' blast ; my collet, r skyte, As when I used in scarlet to follow the c And infant frosts begin to bite, Lal de daudle, &c. In hoary cranreach drest ; 0' randie, gangrel bodies, What tho' with hoary locks, I must sta In Poosie-Nansie's held the sp! Beneath the woods and rocks ofteu time Wi' quaffing and laughin home, When the tother bag I sell, and the Wi' jumping and thump The very g.rdle rang. I could meet a troop of hell, at the so First, neist the fire, in auld red Lal de daudle, &C. His doxy lay within his arm, RECITATIVO. ile she held up her greedy gab Ilk smack still did crack still, Just like a cadger's whip, Then staggering and swaggerin He roar'd this ditty up— 1 am a son of Mars who h And show my cuts and scar: Lal de daudle, &c. He ended ; and the kebars sheuk, Aboon the chorus roar ; While frighted rattans backward leu!'., A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,' But up arose the martial chuck, And laid the loud uproar. ing the French at the Lal de daudle, &c. My 'prenticeship I pass'd where my leader breath'd his last, When the^ bloody die was cast on the heights A The old Scotch name for lite bit. I once was a And still my daddie No wonder I maid, tho' I cannot tell wh delight is in proper young n f a troop of dragoons wa ; m fond of a sodger laddie. Sing, Lal de lal, &c The first of t To rattie the His leg was Transported II. thundering drum was his t so tight, and his cheek w was I with my sodger laddi Sing, Lal de lal, &e. But the godly old chaplaij DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. vjntur'd the soul and I risked the body, fas then I piov'd false to niy sodger laddie Sing, Lai de lal, &c. Full soon I grew The regiment at From the gild* -rind. prnr, ingham fair ; d so gaudy, VI. And now I have liv'd— I know not how long, And still I can join in a cup or a song ; But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady, Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. Sing, Lal de lal, &c. Then niest outspak a raucle carlin, Wha kent sae weel to cleek the sterling, For monie a pursie she had hooked, And had in mony a well been ducked. Her dove had been a Highland laddie, But weary fa' the waefu' woodie ! Wi' sighs and sobs she thus began To wail her braw John Highlandman. A Highland lad my love was born, The Lalland laws he held in scorn ; But he still was faithfu' to his clan, My gallant braw John Highlsmdman. Was match for in y John Highland! With his philibeg a The ladies' hearts h My gallant braw Jo II. n' tartan plaid, 3own by his side, e did trepan, We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, An' lived like lords and ladies gay ; For a Lalland face he feared none, My gallant braw John Highlandman AJown my cheeks the pearls ran, Embracing my John Highlandman. V. But, oh ! they catch'd him at the las And bound him in a dungeon fast: My curse upon them No comfort but a hearty can, When I think on John Highlandman. Sing, hey, &c. Wha used at trysts : Hf Had hol'd his hearii An' blawn't on fir. Wi' hand on haunch, an' upward e Then in an Arioso key', The wee Apollo Set off wi' Allegretto glee His giga solo. Tune — " Whistle owre the lave I. Let me ryke up to dight that tear t driddle, niddle e higher. till Daddie Ca er the lave o't. I am, &c. hile I kittle hair on thairms, RECITATIYO. Her charms had struck a sturdy CairJ, As weel as poor Gutscraper ; He taks the fiddler by the beard, And draws a rusty rapier — lie swoor by a' was swearing -worth, To speet him like a pliver, Unless he would from that time forth, Relinquish her for ever. W ghastly e'e, poor tweedle dee Upon his hunkers bended, And pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face, And sae the quarrel ended. But though his little heart did grieve, "When round the tinkler prest her, He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve, When thus the caird aoiressM her. AIR. « Clout the Cauldron. ' My bonnie lass, I work in brass, A tinkler is my station ; I've travell'd round all Christian ground In this my occupation, I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd In many a noble squadrou : But vain they searcn'd, when off I uiarch'd To go and clout the cauldron. I've ta'en the gold, &c. II. Despise that shrimp, that withei'd imp, Wi' a' his noise an' caprin', An' tak' a share wi ; those that bear The budget an' the apron. An' by that stowp, my faith and houp, An' by that dear Keilbagie,* If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, .May I ne'er weet my craigie. An' by that stowp, &c> RECITATIYO. The caird prevail'd— the unblushing fair In his embraces sunk. Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair, An' partly she was drunk. Sir Violino, with an air That show'd a man of spunk, Wish'd unison between the pair, Ad' made the bottle clunk To their health that night. But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft That play'd a dame a shavie, The fiddler rak'd her fore and aft, Behint the chicken eavie. Her lord, a wight o' Homer's f craft, Tho' limping with the spavie, He hirpl'd up, and lap like daft, An' shor'd them Daintie Davie boot that night. -POEMS. He was a care-defying blade As ever Bacchus listed, Though Fortune sair upon him laid, His heart she ever miss'd it. He had no wish but— to be glad, Nor want but — wheu he thirsted ; He hated nought but— to be sad. And thus the Muse suggested, His sang that night. Tme—" For a' that, an' a' tl I. [ am a bard of no resard, Wi' senile folks, an' a' that : Jut Homer-like, the glowran byke, Frae town to town I draw that. II. never drank the Muse's stank, Castalia's burn, an' a' that ; Jut there it streams, and richly r< My Helicon I ca' that. For a' that, &c. III. * A pecaliar sort of whisky so called, great favourite with Poosie-Nansie's clubs." t Homer is allowed to be the oldest ballad ! singer on record. a' the fair, Great love I Their humble slave But lordly will, I hold it still A mortal sin to thraw that. For a' that, , IV. In raptures sweet, this hour we meet, Wi' mutual love an' a' that ; But for how lang the flie may stang, Let inclination law that. For a' that, &c V. Their tricks and craft have pat me daft, They've ta'en me in an' a' that : But clear your decks, and here's— the sex ! I like the jads for a' that, *' For a' that, an' a' that, An' twice as meikle's a' that : My dearest bluid, to do them guid, They're welcome till't for a' that. RECITATIYO. So sung the bard— and Nansie's wa' Shook with a thunder of applause, Re-echo'd from each mouth ; They toom'd their pocks, an' pawn'd th<-i They scarcely left to co'er their fads, To quench their lowan drouth. Then owre again, the jovial thrang, The poet did request, To lowse his pack an' wale a sang, A ballad o' the bests Between ] Looks roum DL1MOND CABINET LIBRARY. There's a heretic blast has bee., bl That wha't is no sense must be nc Dr Mac,f Dr Mac, you should b " Jolly Mortals fill jour Glasses. 3 A fig for those by law protected ! Liberty's a glorious feast ! Courts for oowcrds were erected, Churches built to please the pri II. What is title ? what is treasure F What is reputation's care? If we lead a life of pleasure, A fig, ; IIL Vith the ready trick and fable, liter scenes of love A fig, &< S A fig, e 'i;. THE KIRK'S ALARM.* Orthodox, orthodox, wha belies Knox, Let me sound an alarm to your c To strike evil doer; To join faith and sen: D'rymple mild,§ D'rymple mild, Iho' heart's like a child, And your life like the new driven snaw For preaching that three's ane an' twa Rumble John,|| Rumble John, monul steps wi' a groan, Cry the book is wi' heresy cramm'd ; Then lug out the ladle, deal briinstoni adle, And roar ev'ry note of the damn'd. Simper James,T Simper James, leave th Killie dames, There's a holier cbace in your view ; I'll lay on your head, that the pack ye '11 For puppies like you there's but few. Unci Wi' a jump, jell, and howl, alarm < For the foul thief is just at your gate. Daddy Auld.ft Daddy Auld, there's a to the fanld. the clerk ; Tho'yeca Andifyi lo little i labite ye may bark. If the ass was the ki > Goose, § But the Doctc of the brutes. Jamie Goose, ye hae made but s wicked lieutenant ; a your mark, for the L— d's 'd and cawd a wrang pin in'u BURNS. Poet Willie,* Poet Willie, gie the Doctor a Wi' your liberty's chain and jour wit ; 'er Pegasus' side you ne'er laid a stride, Ye but smelt, man, the place where hesh-t, Audro Gouk.f Andro Gouk, ye may slauder And the look not the waur let me tell y( t lay by hat and wig, And ye'll hae a calf's head o' sma' value. Barr Steenie.i Barr Steenie, what mean ye ? what mean ye ? If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter, Ye may ha'e some pretence to bavins and Wi' people wha ken ye nae better. Irvine side,§ Irvine side, wi'your turkey-cock pride, Of manhood but sma' is your share ; Muirland Jock,|| Muirland Jock, when the L— d makes a rock To crush Common Sense for her sins, If ill manners were wit, there's no mortal To confound the poor Doctor at ance. Holy Will, *fi Holy Will, there was wit i' your I swing in a rape for an hour. Poet Burns, Po skelping li Why desert ye Your muse is a re storehouses o' lead. THE TWA HERDS.** Oa ye piou godly flocks, We 1 fed on pastures orthod Wh ig tykes, * Mr P - s.Ayr, + Dr A. M , Bat § Mr S— -h, GalstonT" " 11 Mr S B J An Elder in M -ucf.Ltie *Thist g the fir and was oceas oned by bel veeu tw clergymen, ne ir Kiluia herds in a' the wastj Ha'e >r black m sel. O, M y, man, and worthy How could you raise so vile a bustle, Ye'll see how new-light herds will whis And think it fine 1 The Lord's cause ne'er got sic a twissle, Sin'Iha'emin'. 0, Sirs ! whae'er wad ha'e expeckit, To wear the plaid, ' But by the brutes themsels clekit, 11, The Thummart wil'-cat brool , and tod, Weel a' th wood, He smelt their i ka hole I'.dr.j Baith o j! a.i.l And* eel he lik And sell their skin.' What herd like R 11 eU'dh s tale, Hisv i-:e w::sh eard thro He ke ud the Lo , ilka O'er a the he ght. Ands iw gin th y ^ S ek or 1 And new-light herds could nicely drub, Or pay their skin, Could shake them o'er the burning dub ; Wh le new-light here Say .s wiMaughii neither's liei spite, A'y The Hut e wha tent the go e's D n, dee chiefly thou, apo , andP- — 5tle A— il, — s, shaul, Tha thou wilt work Till hem, bet and they agree. catJd, I lie Hat ider, Sirs, how comes' frae 'man we're beset, herd that we S'U Iho Iw pe frae heav'n to sTtheTyet DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. I) e has been lang our fae, M< 11 has wrought us meikle wae, Aud that curs'd rascal ea'd M« e, AndbaiththeS s, But better stuff ne'er claw da midden ! That aft ha'e made us black and blae, Wi> vengefu' paws. Ye ministers, come mom Auld W w lang has hatch'd mischief, For Eighty-eight he wish' We thought aye death wad bring relief, An'giedyoua'baithgear But he has gotten, to onr grief, E'en mony a plack, an' m nyapeek, A chield wha'll toundly buff our bee And monie a ane that I could tell, Wha fain would openly rebel, Forby turu-coats amang oursel, There S— h for ant I doubt he's but a grey-nick quill, And that ye'll fin'. O ! a' ye flocks o'er a' the hills, By mosses, meadows, moors, aud fel Come join your counsel and your ski Then Orthodoxy yet may pra And learning in a woody dan. And that fell cur ca'd Coram. That bites s Be banish'd Let him bark there, law's and Dalrymple's eloquence, M'Q— e' Wi' S- THE HENPECK'D HUSBAND. irs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in 1 \Yh Wh must to ,,r h . , , in L.-r rlend' e such th ,..!i reak Tier Lreak harm her the ma sic of I'd kiss her m and kick the p ELEGY ON THE YEAR 1 The Spanish empire's tint a head, An' my auld toothless Bawtie's dead 'I he toolzie's teugh 'tween Pitt an' An' our guidwife's wee birdy cocks ; Ye ken you Ye bonnie lasses, dight your een. Observe the very nowt an' sheep, Nay, even the yirth itsel' does cry, For Embro' wells are grutten dry. O Eighty-nine thou's but a bairn, Thou beardless boy, I pray tak' care, Thou now has got thy daddy's ' T\J„~ 1 ^ a-t.i — • — ItJ l- ., haff-shackl'd Re- LINES WRITTEN BY BURNS, meetingof the Dumfries-shire Volur Id to commemorate the anniverst ictory, April 12th, 1782, Instead of a song, bo; Here's the memory oi BURNS— That we lost, did I say, nay, by heav'n ! that For their fame 'it shall last while the world The next in succession, 111 give you the King, Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he And cere's the grand fabric, our free Cocsti- of the great Revolution ; THE BIRKS OF AEERFELDY. Bonny lassie will ye go, will ye go, will ye so, Bonny lassie will ye go, to the Birks of Aber- feldy ? Now summer blinks on flowery hraes, Or lightly flit on wanton wing InthebirksofAberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &C. The braes ascend like lofty wa's, The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's. O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws, The birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &«. The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, White o'er the linns the h-jrnie noi.rs. Bet fortune's gifts at Tune—" An Giile dabh ciar dhubh. *• cflel^IrueC^cltye me l**"" "^ — 1 you know how m B eh you grieve me : ■uel charmer, can you go i Eel ccrrmer, can you go ? * This was 1 ScMci: By the pangs of lovers slighted! J Do not, do not leave me so ! STRATRALLAN'S LAMENT. Thickest night o'erhangs my dwelling ? Howling tempests o'er me rave ! Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, Still surround my lonely cave '. In the cause of right engaged, Wrongs injurious to redress, Honour's war we strongly waged THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER. Tune— "Morag." Loud blaw the frosty breezes, The snaws the mountains cover ; Since my young Highland rover May heaven be his warden : Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging, The birdies dowie moaning, Shall a' be bljihely singing, And every flower be springing. Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day, When by his mighty warden, My youth's return 'd to fair Strathspey, And bonnie Castle Gordon. 4. t Strathallan, it is presumed, was one of the followers of the young Chevalier, and is supposed to be lying concealed in some cave of the Highlands, after the battle of Cuiloden. This song was written before the year 1788. i The young Highland rover is supposed to be the young Chevalier, Prince Charles Ed- DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Sunshine days of joy and pleasi Hail, thou gloomy night of son Cheerless night that knows no i Life, thou soul of O how gladly I'd MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN. Tune—" Druimion dubh." Musing on the roaring ocean, Which divides my love and me ; Hope and fear's alternate 1 Yielding late to nature's Wlusp'riog spirits round r. Talk of him that's far ai Gentle night, do thou befriend m BLYTHE WAS SHE. Blythe, blythe, and merry was sL Blythe was she but and beu ; Blythe by the banks of Ern, And blythe in Gienturit glen. Blythe, Her looks m *The occasio early c ornpositioi A Rose-bud by my early walk, arly in the i n shall see I o thou, dear bird, young Jea Tune. —"Neil Gow * This song was written during the w of 1787. Miss J. C. daughter of a frier the Herd) « the heroine. BURN'S POEMS. Blest be the wild, seqnester'd Where Peggy's charms I firs! TIBBIE, I HAE SEEM THE DAY. Tune— " Invercauld's Reel." Tibbie, I hae seen the day Ye would na been sae shy ; lightly me, truth lea a by. Yestreen I met you on the moo: Ye spak na, but gaed by Ike st. Ye geek at me because I'm poo I doubt na lass, but ye m; Tim ye' can pTease meTt ' Whene'er ye like to 'ry O Tibbie, I hae, &c. We part,— but by these precious drops, That till thy lovely eves ! ■ ..•■■. . _ •:,■■,=, ■;., Till thy bright beams arise. She, the fair sun of all her sex, "is blest my glorious day : s j,il; a gl.mmerins; planet fix Tune—" Seventh of November. " _he blissl Ne'er summer l Than a' the pride that loads the tide, And crosses o'er the sultry line ; Tban kingly robes, than crowns and globes, a gav e w id night can bring delight, ut nature ought of pleasure give ! For thee, and thee alone, I live ! And answer him O Tibbie, I ha fu' dry. e, &c. But if he hae the n Yell fasten to him Tho' hardly he, for Be better than th O Tibbie, I ha tike a brier,' sense or lear, But, Tibbie, lass, t Your daddie's gear The deil a ane wad Tibbie, I ha ak my advice, maksjousaeri There lives a lass i yonder park, FoT^ewi? 1 :^; Ye need na look T.bbie, I ha Hg?^ THE LAZY JilST. The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the waling the course of the dark winding languid the scenes, late so sprightly, ap pear, The forTrs ^X^^tLa" Meadows are I all the gay foppery of summer is flown ; I do-.vnward, how weaken'd, how darken ung beyond it poor m To what dark ea O, WERE I ON PARNASSUS HILL. Tu7ie—« My love is lost to me. " DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. And aye the wild w Ye birdies di Again ye'l But here, alt Shall bird. How much, how dear, I love thee, Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean Thy tempting lips, thy roguish e'en — By heaven and earth I love thee ! By night, by day, afield, at hanie, Tho' I "were doom'd to wander on, Be* ond the sea, beyond the sun, 'Till my last, weary sand was run; •Till then—and then I love thee. I LOVE MY JEAN. Tune — " MissAlniiral Gordon's Straih: Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, Willie brew *d id Rob and i se blyther he; I dearly like the west For there the bonnie las The lassie I lo'e best: There wi rue a hill betw But day nd night my f ncy'sfl ght Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her n the dewy flo wers, r sweet and fa I hear he in the tunefu birds. I hear tier charm the There's i ota bonnie flower that sprii Byfou tain, shaw.-or green, Three merry b"ys I tr Andm let, three merry boys, We i It is the moon, I ken her horn, That's blinking in the lift sae hi; But by my troth she'll wait a we :fou, &c to gang awa, Wha first shall ri - juckold, coward lo I Wha first beside his chair shall fa', He is the ki Weai tefou, &cf THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE. THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE. The Catrine woods were yellow seen, The flowers decayed on Catrine lee,* >n hillock green, But m ;s Maria a the ■■ * Catrine, in Ayrshire, the seat of Dugald Stewart, Esq. Professor of Moral Philosophy in the Uni'.eraity of Edinburgh. Ballochmyle, formerly the seat of Sir John Whil ■ rd,noi of Alexander, E q She talk'd, she smiled, my heart she wyl'd, She charmed my soul 1 wist na how ; A.nd aye the stound, the deadly wound, and Rob and Allan, friend, Allan Master- it fellows— all men of now liuder the turf A:\V~- QIH It - t3jgZ^j| UclldigjE BUKNS.— POEMS. But spare to s She'll aibli Should she r To her ti BANKS OF NITH. •■■ Robie Donna Gorach." iws proudly to the sea, d fom , Nifh, thy fruitful va ;e hand ally bloom ; p . tiy wine my sloping aales v. . : ering, no 1 .;, must be my doom, rig the friends of early days ! T OHN ANDERSON MY JO. • lin Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; Ai.d mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither. I w we maun toiler down, Job rJut hand in hand we'll go: And sleep thegilher at the foot, john Anderson my jo. f eaking, dear t John Anderson, my jo, John, when naiure To try her canny hand, John, her masler- And you amang them a', J. n, sae trig frae tap to toe, She proved to be r.ae journey- worn, John An- Anderson, my jo, John, ye were my first pe na think it strange, John, tho' I ca' some folk say ye'Je auld, John, I never think ye so, think ye're aye th same to me, John Anderson, my jo John Anderson, my jo, . vr^'ve seen our yet my dear John A.de-sr I'm happy ;ae are ye in mine, John — I'm sure ye '11 Tho' ohu Ande'r: , tha. John Anders * The heroine of this song was Miss , Loehmaben. This lady, now Mrs R. with her husband in New York" North. A + In the first voir Poetry, Original and i ' "-'lof Glasgr of a colled j entitled, rinted bj ig is giver as follow: JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO, IMPROVED. John Anderson, my jo, John, I wonder wha To rise so , John, nat pleas To see sae mony sprouts, JoJn, spring u. And ilka lad and lass, John, in our footsteps to go, Makes perfect heaven here on earth, John An- derson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, when we were Your locks were like the raven, your bonnie But now your head's turned bald, John, yonr a your frosty pow, John An- ; y jo- John Anderson, my jo, John, frae year to year And soon that year maun come John, will But let nae'that affright us, John, our hearts were ne'er our foe, While in innocent delight we lived, John An- derson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, we clamb liie hill thegilher, And mony a canty day, John, we've had wi' ane anither ; New we maun totter down, John, but hand late at To anger them a' is a pity, But what will I do wi' Tarn Glen I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow, In poortith I might mat a fen : DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. My laddie's sae meik 1 hei He L -; ■ the la U \OU so' I ance Dumeller, i's siller, ike Tarn Gle My i ■1 £'■ Bu Hatter, s think antly deave me, oung men ; Tarn Glen ? My daddie say , gin I'll fo rsake him, My heart to my For thrice I drew And thrice it vs The last Hallowe MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL, neikle thinks my luve o' my beauty, Your proffer o' love's an arle penny, My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy; Gane is the day and m ; the lawin, the lawi t the lawin, and bi lat can a young lassie, what shallayoun; 1 luck on the pennie that tempted m a Ian' ! Bad It; i, lie. ilways compleening frae morning to He hosts an he hirples the weary day lang, He's doj'lt and he's dozin. his bluid it is ae night wi' a crazy auld man I He hums and he hankers, he frets and he a p'lease him do a' that I can ; 1 and jealous of a' the young fel- O, dool on the day, I met wi' an' auld man : [y auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity, I'll do my endeavour io follow '11 cross him, and wrack him, And then his auld brass wi'.l l Hc'= P i;. ;i BURNS. THE BONNIE WEE THING. Bonnie wee thins?, cannie wee thin?. Lovely V.'lstfull-, I lock and languish, In that bonnie face of thine ; Lest my wee thing be na mine. Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty, In ae constellation shine ; To adore thee is my duty, Goddess o' this soul o' mine ! 0, FOR ANE AND TWENTY TAM. Tune— "The Moudiwort." An' O, for ane and twenty, Tam ! An' hey, sweet ane and twenty, Tarn ! An' I saw ane and twenty, Tam. adhaud me down. And gar me lool But three short ye An' 0, for At kith or kin I need na spier, An' I saw ane and twenty, Tam, An' O, for ane, &c. They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof, Tho' I mysel hae plenty, Tam ; BESS AND HER SPINNING WHEEL. And haps me 11 el and warm at e'en ! I'll set me down and sing and spin, While laigh descends the simmer sun, Blest wi' content, and milk and meal— O leeze me en my spinning wheel. On ilka hand the burnies trot, The scented birk and hawthorn white, Alike to screen the birdie's nest, And little fishes' caller rest : The sun blinks kindly in the biel*, Where, blythe I turn my spinning wheel. On lofty aiks the cushats wail, And echo cons the dcolfu' tale: The lintwhites in the hazel braes, Delighted, rival itlier's lays: The craik amang the claver hay, The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley, The swallow jinking round my shiel, Wi' ana' to sell, and less to buy, Aboon distress, below envy, O wha wad leave this humble state, For a' the pride of a' the great 1 Amid tbeir Hairing, idle toys, Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys, Can they the peace and pleasure fee-', Of Bessy at her spinning wheel. COUNTRY LASSIE. ;r when the hay was ruawn, And roses blaw in ilka bield ; Blythe Bessie in the milking shiel, Says, I'll be wed come o't what will ; Its J hae n 3oers mo y a a ae, An d, lassi Then wee, and umi. Dutt, a ro l, r ,?' : Ther 'a Joh ie o' the !>. = !. e-gien, Fu barn, fu byre; Tak this frae K:.ill hen, It' pUati beets the luver siire. For J ohnnie o' the Buskie-glen, re a sing eflie Helo md kye, He has nae luve to ;■- -"'"•-■ . And weel I wat he lo'es me dear : Ae blink o' him 1 wad na gie For Buskie-glen and a' his gear. O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught, The canniest gate, the strife is sair ; But aye fu' han't is fechtin' best, And wilfu' folk maun hae their will ; Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill. Thegowd and si Ve may be poor, I Light is the burd FAIR ELIZA. Turn again, thou fair Eliza, Ae kind blink before we part, ew on thy despairing lover ! Canst thou break his faithfu' h DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Turn again, thou fair Eliza ; If lo love tby heart denies, IJnder friendship's kind disguise ! id gladly d l ilka throe Not the bee upon the b In the pride o' sinnj Not the little sportiDg Not the poet in the mo Fancy lightens on hi Kens the pleasure, feel That thy presence gi THE POSIE. Luve will v< i' a posie to my ain dear May. I will pu', the firstling o' the ' the pink, the emblem o' my For she's withou my ain dear May, I'll pu' the budding rose when Phffibns peer For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonni The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanj And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The lily it and the 1 t is fLir r lovely bosom I'll plac = for simplicity and unaffected :y which weel s ;o my ain dear M And I'll Dla. by a' That to my 1 And this v : e round wi' the silken band o' it in her breast, and I'll swear est draught o> life the band shall i be a posie to my ain dear May. THE BANKS 0' DOON. Ve banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ; Thou'll break my heart thou warbling bi SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. She's bow- hough'd she's he nshinn'd Ae limpi ilegah nd-breed shorter : She's twis ed right, sted left, To balan ilka qua She has a 1 The twin o' that upon her houther ; Sio a wife, &c. Auld baudr ns by th e ingle si 9, And wi' Ber loof -washin ; Sut Willie s wife is She digh s her gr Her walie creels. Her face aV the Logan water ; a wife as Willie had, BURNS POEMS. GLOOMY DECEMBER. jjing mild on the soft parting ho : feeling, O farewell forever, b. unmingled and agony pure. Shall ever be my dearie. Lassie, say thoa lo'es me : Or, if thou wilt na be my ; If it wiflna, canna be, ' Thou, for thine, may choose Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy Dec. Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow at For sad was the parting thou maks Parting wi' Nancy, Oh, ne'er to m EVAN BANKS* Slow spreads the gloom my soul desir The sun from India's shore retires ; To Evan banks, with lemp'rate ray, Home of my youth, it leads the day. SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE. :side, h the Clyde. rembling heard my pitr'-':ii2- s:jbi Lro.- e's-brokeri ay e'es ^, Ik i routl o' gear, faae '"}'?>. v. ar::. letlhe bon lie lass gang. ' rlie ebeth "b:i:,J, 'fickle in love, by kin lli't sa , fair ! by share, ~u= i o'er meikle o gien thee m ■r, irsued m with hear Ye lofty banks that Evan bound ! Ye lavish woods that wave around, Can all the wealth of In Swift from this And' fly to raeel Nor more may- is my sight ! me part, WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE. AFTON WATER. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy gree i Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song sa tl My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream. Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not h; Thou stock icne whose echo resounds thro' tt glen, wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorn Thou green-crested lapwing thy screamii urge you disturb not my slumbering fair. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbourin Far marked with courses of clear windin e daily I wander as noon rises high, locks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eji How pleasant thy banks and green valley b< Where wild in the woodlands the primrost where my Mr_ry rc=iu-- DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, uowy feel la Fiow gently, si Row gently, s t Afton, amoDg thy green et river, the theme of my FOR THE SAKE OF SOMEBODY. ; I dax tell, BONNIE BELL. The smiling spring comes in rejoic And surly Winter grimly flies : Now crystal clear are the falling w Fresh o'er the mountains breaks ft. rth the The ev'ning'gilds the ocean's swell All creatures joy in the sun's returning And I rejoice in my bonnie BeR. The flowery Spring leads sunny Soma And yellow Autumn presses n-.nr, Then in his turn comes gloomy Winte 'Till smiling Spring again appear. Thus seasons dancing, life advancing, Old Time ana Nature iheir changes But never ranging, still unchanging I adore my bonnie Bell. tell, THE GALLANT WEAVER Where Cart rins rowin to the sea, They zied m rin=-s and ribbons fi And I was fe ar'd my heart would And I gied it to the weaver. My daddie sign'd my tocher-band To gie the lad that has the land, But to my heart I'll add my hand, While birds rejoice in leafy bowers ; While bees delight in opening flowei While corn grows green in simmer si LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY THEE. Louis, what reck I by thee, Or Geordie on his ocean ; Dyvour beggar louns to me, I reign in Jeanie's bosom. My heart is sair for somebody ; For the sake of somebody. Oh-hon! for somebody ! Oh-hey ! for somebody ! [ could range the world around, For the sake of somebody. Ye powers that smile on virtuoi;? 1 Oh-hey! fi THE LOYELY LASS OF INVERNESS, The lovely lass o' Inverness, Nae joy nor pleasure can she see ; For e 'en and morn she cries, alas ! For then ■> Drumossie day, my. father dear, Myfatl Their winding sheet the bloody clay, That bless M a worn ui's e'e thee, thou cruel lord, Ablu cy man I trow tho lbej Tune — " Finlayston House. " ite gave the word, the arrow sped, And pierced my darling's heart : id with him all the joys are fled j cruel hands the sapling drops, In dust dishonour'd laid : So fell the pride of all my hopes, My age's future shade. be mother linnet in the brake, Bewails her ravished young ; > I for my lost darliog"'s sake, Lament the live-day long, Death, oft I've fear'd thv Now fond I bare my breast, do thon kindly lay me low With him I love at rest: BURNS. -POEMS, O MAY, THY MORN, May, thy morn was r.e'er sae sweet As the mirk night o' December ; For sparkling was the rosy wine, And here's to them, that like ourse!, And here's to them that wish us weel, May a' that's gude watch o'er (hem ; How blest ye birds that The snn blinks blythe on yon town, And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr ; Bat my delight in yon town, And dearest bliss is Lucy fair. Without my love, not a' the charms O' paradise could yield me joy ; But gie me Lucy in my arms, And welcome Lapland's dreary slcy. My cave wad be a lover's bower, Tho' raging winter rent the air ; And she a lovely little flower. That I wad tent and shelter there. His setting beam ne' if angry fate has swor 'or while life's dearest bloo Ae thought frae her shall nd she— as fairest is her ft ly Miss L. J.) died lately in -ist accomplished and most is worthy of this beautiful si A RED, RED ROcjL:. my love's like a red, red roso 8 That's newly sprung in Jane, my love's like the melody That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonny lass, And I will love thee still my dear, 'Till a' the seas gang dry. 'Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun ; 1 will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only love, And fare thee weel a while ! And I will come again my love, s I stood by yon roofless to The winds we reli a, t ae air was still, The stars tl iota ong the sky ; owl a the hill, And the dis -cho ng glens reply. The stream adown its hazelly path, Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, Hasting to join the sweeping JN'ith, f Whase distant roaring swells and fa's ! The cauld bine north was streaming forti Athort the lift they start°and shift, ' n look had daunted m red posie — Liberty ! 'ring dead to hear ; d stalwart ghaist appear'd. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. COPY OF A POETICAL ADDRESS MR WILLIAM TYTLER, Revered defender of beau Of Stuart a name once A name, which to love w eous Stuart, But now' as despised and neglected : Tho' sometl ing like mois ture conglobes ^"Se '"""sign!' Still more dless wand' er may well c , if that wan i'rerwereroya My fathers that name have rever'd My father Those fathe have fallen rs would sp trn their 'dege Now life's chilly evening dim shades id ushers the long drearv night : Eutyou, like the star that athwart g sky, Your course to the latest is bright. My muse jilted me here, and turned ; That name should he scoffingly slight it Still in prayers for Ring George I most hi Hy join, The Queen and the rest of the gentry. Be they wise, be they foolish, is nuthin Their title's avow'd by the country. But why of that epocha make such a fuss, me to Edinburgh, and: ve the honour to be, Revered Sir, Your obliged and very humb! CALEDONIA. ■« Caledonian Hunt's Deiigh i once a day, but old Tim (Who knows not that brave Calec From Tweed to the Orcades was hei To hunt, or to pasture, or do would : Her heavenly relations there fixed h And pledg'd her their godheads The pri< ;ons. The scenery so finely describee n from nature. The poet is supposet msing by night on the banks of tne r len, and by the ruins of Lincluden-Abt ded in the twelfth century, in the reig; :olm IV. of whose present situation er may find some account in Penna, r in Scotland, or Gro=e's Amiuuitie- i song of Libs i of poetry c riumphantly « Whoe'er shall provoke thee th' encounter With tillage or pasture at times she woi'ld ir flocks by her green rustling- Here 'till thitherward A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand :* Repeated, successive, for many long years, "bey darken 'd the air, anu they plunder's the land : BURN'S—POEMS. Their pounces were murder, : The fell Harpy-raven took wing from the The scourge of the seas, and the dread of the shore ; * The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth He learned to feai guin'd the Twf it Caledonian la is Chance, and old Time is the But brave Caledonia's the hvpothen Then ergo she'll match "them, them always, il THE FOLLOWING POEM If V w the . the Russian a..d the Turks ; Or if the Swede, before he halt, Would play anither Charles ibe Twalt ! If Denmark, ony body spako't ; Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't ; How cut-throat Prussian blades were hinsr How libbet Italy was singin ; If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss, Were sayin or takin ought amiss : If Warren Hastings' If that daft buckie, Geordie Wales, Wasthreshin still at hizzies' tails, Or if he was growin oughtlins douser, A' this and mair I never heard of; And, but for you, I might despair'dof. So gratefu', back your news I send you, And pray, a* guid things may attend jot EUisland, Monday Morning, 1790. X PASTJRAL POETRY. 'Mang heaps o' clavcrs And och ! o'er aft thy joys hae starved, 'Mid a' thy favours ! Say, Lassie, whv thv train amang. While loud the trump's heroic clang, And sock or buskin skelp alang it the drumlie Dutch wen * The Saxons. f The Danes, i Two famous battles, in which the 1 or Norwegians were defeated. g The Highlanders of the Isles. || This singular figure of poetry, taken frc tion of Pythagoras, the 17th of ~ ight-angled triangle, the square of the hypo- Even Sappho's flame, tus, wha matches 1 ; proposi- ! But thee, Theocritus, wha mat , They're no herd's ballats, Mai Squire Pope but busks his skin O' heathen t; I pass by hnnders, nameless wi That ape thei In this braw age o' wit and let tht of ti DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. how deil Tarn c; a Scottish callan ! forrit, honest Allan ! behint the hallan, Thou paints auld nature to the uini Io thy sweet Caledonian lines ; In gowarjy glens thy burni b strays, bleach their Or trots by hazelly s "Where blackbirds jo cW lispkerd's lay >' day. Thy rural loves are r ssel; Iv ae bombast spates O' That charm that can thes rongest quell, THE BATTLE OF SHERLFF-MUIR, BETWEEN THE BIIKE OV AKGYLK AND ■a ye here the fight to 6hun, To hear tl O ' clans frae woods, in tarta Wha glaum'd al kingdom; The red-coat lads wi' black , To meet them were na sla- They rush'd and push 'd, am And mony a bouk did fa', The great Argyle led on his 1 I wat they glanced twenty m They hack'd and hash'd, i clash'd, And thro' they dash'd, smash'd, Till fey men died awa, mi But had you seen the philibe When in the teeth they dar'i When bayonets opposed the Wi' Highland wrath they ft Drew blades o' death, till ou They fled like frighted doo lile broadswords : saw myself, they did pursue The horsemen back to Forth, m tricl at Dumblane, in my ain sigh kDd straight to Stirling wing'd tb Jut, cursed lot ! the gates were B. Lnd mony a hunted poor red-coat For fear amaist did swarf, man. ' My sister Kate came up the gate She swoor she saw some rebels rut i Dundee, : general had n: That day thei For fear by fo =s, that they should lose " They've lost some gallant gentlemen Amang the Highland clans, man; I fear my Lord Panmure is slain, Or fallen in nhiggish hands, man ; Now wad ye sing this double fight, Some fell for wrang, and some for righ But mony bade the world gude-night ; Then ye may tell, how pell and mell, By red claymores, and muskets' knell, Wi' dying yell, the lories fell, And whigs to hell did flee, man. "* SKETCH, NEW YEAR'S DAY. s day, Time winds the exhausted cl run the twelvemonths' length again e the old bald-pated fellow, h ardent eyes, complexion sallow, Will you (the Major's The happy tenants sua Coila's fair Rachel's c And blooming Keith's * This was written about the time our made his tour to the Highlands, 17S7. f This young lady was drawing a pi of Coila from the Vision, see page 191. B7 R>.S.— POEMS. Rest on— for what ! What do Or why regard the passing yea Wi :-.L,-r slit ave !.v -"■">■} bright, Or J., a ,:i; ; Sin ethet r'dfi = t . 1 iV hispc all nds: Lei And J= IL> :7 °se^ 'h.: I.".-, 6 mploy, Tho 11., J liLil circle ro -lYi i pulse, i' se) Oth f regard Yourself, JOU ,M: JO -r L . ■ i -■■ EXTEMPORE, uncombed grizzly locks wild-starin; ad for thought profound and clear, un POETICAL INSCRIPTION, AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE, HERON— WRITTEN IN SUMMER 1795. Thou of an independent mind, With seul resolved, with soul resigned ; * Mr Si lersofaclub iaEdi ;i Crochailan Fencibles. Prepared power's proudest frown to Who wilt not be, nor have a slave : Virtue alone who dost revere, Thy own reproach alone dost tear, THE DEATH OF MR RIDDEL. No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more Thou young-eyed Spring, thy charms I ci can ye please, ye flowers, with all your blow upon the sod that wraps my The Man of Worth, and has not left his Is in his ' narrow house' for ever darkly low. Thee, Spring, again with joy shall others greet ; Me, mem ry of my loss will only meet. MONODY A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE. How cold is that bosom which folly once fired. How silent that tongue which the echoes oft How dull is that ear which to flattery to low doubly severer, Eliza, thy fate Thou diedst unwept, as thou 1 loved. f Robert Riddel, Esq. of Friar's Carse, a very worthy character, and one to whom our bard thought himself under many obligations;, 2-36 DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. We'll search through Ihe garden for each flower, We'll roam through the forest for each rash deed. We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure lay; Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre; There keen indignation shall dart on her pr VS 7 hich spurning contempt shall redeem fr his ire. EPITAPH. ANSWER TO A MANDATE IENT BY THE SURVEYOR OP THE V L'OWS, CARRIAGES, &C. TO EACH F J1F.R, ORDERING HIM TO SEND A SIG: My hand-afore, A a guid auld has bee My hand-a-hin'r a guid brown filly, Wha aft has borne me safe frae Kill! And your auld borough mony a time, My fur-a-hin,§ a guid, grey beast, The four' Highland Donald h ,-.;,, * The fore-horse on the left-hand, i plough. t The hindmost on the left-hand, ii auld wheel-barrow, mair for token, leg and baith the trams are broken ; I rule them, as I ought, discreetly, And often labour them completely, And aye on Sundays duly nightly, I on the questions tairge them tightly, isie, smirking, dear bought Bess ; ires the daddie in her face, h of ought ye like but grace, r, my bonny, sweet wee lady, ud enough for her already, By the L_ ;e get them a' thegither And now, remember, Mr Aiken, Nae kind of licence out I'm takin'. Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle, lire I sae dear pay for a saddle ; I've sturdy stumps, the Lord be thankit And a' my gates on foot I'll shank it. This list wi' ROBERT BURNS. in the glen sae bushy, O, 1 the plain sae rushy, O, ig my Highland°lassie, 0. || Gentle is used here in opposition to sim- ple, in the Scottish and old English sense of the word. Nae gentle dames. — No higa BURXS.— POEMS. But while my crimson I'll love my Highland Within the glen, & ats flow, 0. Altho' thro' foreign cl 1 know her heart will i For her bosom burns w My faithful Hishland Within the glen, &c ithh range, Sglc For her I'll dare the b J. ; .r her I'll trace a dis Aroundmy Highland 1 Within the glen, &c ;'iU 0, She has my heart, she has my hand, TiD the mortal stroke shall lay me'loi I'm thine my Highland lassie, 0. Within the glen, &c. Farewell the glen sae h Farewell the plain sae r To other lands I now m To singmy Highland la ls hy, 0, ashy, U, USt gu, IMPROMPTU, Old Winter with his frosty beard, Thus once to Jove his prayer prefa " What have I done of all the year My -rless su Nig a-ar^ My nal mon U C'.j E.i spl eny En jlUh lit Now, Jove, for once be To ce all i Cm ,andl .Maria 'Hi; tbr fl will h,r £§ r.Autu ADDRESS TO A LADY. Oh wert thou in the cauld blasl, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee : Or did misfortune's bitter storms Aronnd thee blaw, around thee blav : I monarch o' the globe, thee to reign, with thee to re: be my queen, wad be my qae< TO A YOUNG LADY, Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair, That fate may in her fairest page, With every kindliest, best presage With native worth, and spotless fame, And wakeful caution, still aware Of ill— but chief, man's felon snare j All blameless joys on earth we find, So prays thy faithful iriend, the bard. Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear. :ome, thou child of pc with thee I'll share On refusing to dine with him, after havi been promised 'the first of company, and l first of cookery, 17th December, 1795. No more of your guests, be they titled or nc Who is proof to ihy personal converse a Is proof to all other temptation. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. TO MR S— E, 'IV ere urnik for Ur.t of I A gift that e'eu for S- Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfi THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS. Tune—" Push about the Jorum." -dprtf, 1795. Does haughty Gaul invasion threat ? The I volumes Maun British wrangs be righted " Falderall, & The kettle o' the kirk and state, Eutdi : , ;....; Shall fu the kettle bought, are to spoil it ; ■■' Fall' derail, &c The wretch that wad a tyrant own, And the wretch, his true- torn brotlie Who would set the mob aboon the thro May they be damn'd together! Who will not sing « God save the king Shall hang as high's the steeple ; ]iut, while we sing '• God save the kin, Ifwi'thehiz iosee the uew come lade.-, groaning, Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin To thee and thine ; The hail design. " "° POSTSCRIPT. Ye've heard this while how I've been li And by fell death was nearly nickel: Grim loon ! he gat me by the fecket, Then fareweel folly, hide and hair o't, For ance and ay e. The friend whom wild from wisdom's w The fumes of wine infuriate send : ' "'bo but deplores that hapless friend i was th' insensate frenzied pari, •All.-, should I such scenes ouline! is so abhorrent to my heart ! POEM ON LIFE, Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan Watches like baudrons by a rattan, Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on Wi' felon ire; Ah Nick ! ah Nick, it is na fair, Bright wines°and bonnie lasses rare, To put us daft ; Syne weave unseen thy spider's snare O hell's damn'd waft. Poor man, the fiie, aft bizzes by, And aft as chance he comes thee nigh, Thy auld damn'd elbow yeuks wi' joy, Soon hesls o'er gowdie 1 in he gangs. Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs And murdering wrestle, as dangling in the wind he hangs A gibbet's tassel. But lest you think I am uncivil, To plague you with this draunting drivel, ADDRESS TO THE TOOTH-ACHE. Ihat shoots my tortur'd gums alang ; Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang, When fevers burn, or ague freezes, Our neighbaur's svmpalby may ease us, Wi' pitying moan; But thee — thou hell o' a' diseases, Aye mocks our groan Adown my beard the sla-ers trickle ; As round the fire the giglets keckle, Tosl e loup ; ■POEMS. And ranked plagues their nuui Thou, Tooth-ache, surely bea O thou grim mischief-making That gars the notes o' discord 'Till daft mankind aft dance a In gor Giea' thefaeso' Scot!; rs the rose-bud steepi CHORUS. But her by thee is slighted : And thou art all delighted. If thou hast met this fair one ; If every other fair one, But her thou hast deserted, And thou art broken hearted- O that 's, &c. Nought but griefs with me r ipare my luve, ye winds that 1 Flashy sleets and beating rai ipare my luve, thou feathery s Drifting o'er the frozen plaii Sweetly blylhe his waukening bf le will think on her he loves, Fondly he'll repeat her name; DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. SONG. My Peggy's face, my Peggy's for The frost of hermit age might wa My Peggy's worth, my JYgiry's i Might charm the hrst of human k I love my Peggy's ,„lj lair Her native gl But I adore my Peggy's 1 The lily's hue, the rose's WRITTEN IN A WRAPPER, INCLOSING A LETTKR TO CAPTAIN GROSE, ANTIQUARIAN. Tun'.—" Sir John Maleoin. " Ifh< Igo, a Is he South, or is he North ? Igo, and ago, Or drowned in the river Forth ? Iraui, coram, dago. Is he slain by Highland bodies ? Igo, and ago, And eaten like a wether haggis ? But pleas Which w ROBERT GRAHAM, Esq, OF FINTRY. I call no goddess to inspire my st A fabled Muse may suit a bard tl Friend of my life ! my ardent sp A.nd all the tribute of my heart r For boons accorded, goodness evi The gift still dearer as the giver , a villain's years EPITAPH ON A FRIEND. A GRACE BEFORE DINNER. And if it please thee, heavenly guide May never worse be sent ; TO MY DEAR AND MUCH HONOUR!- D MRS DUNLOP, OF DUNLOP. ON SENSIBILITY. ensibilily how charming, Thou, my friend, canst truly tell; Thou hast also known too' weUT airest flower, behold the lily, BURNS POEMS. CORRESPONDENCE MR GEORGE THOMSON. CORRESPONDENCE, &c. No. I. MR THOMSON TO MR BURKS. Inielj iudecer.t. Even these shall all be exa- - ined by Mr Burns, and if he is of < pinion -* .ny of therr — : lat any of them are deserving of ll ich cases, no divorce shall take pit Edinburgh, Septemter, 1792. ! ta fc^ ta'aSS^TSK!?^^ e most favourite of our nation- i G. THOMSON lodies for publication. We have engaged I, the most agreeable composer living, to both public and privat, poetry improved, wherevt of the music ; and that stances, is allowed by e No. II. MR EURNS TO MR THOMSON. ;o loose and iudeli- Only, task to the author of The Cotter's Sati Night; and, for the honour of Caledon , _ muse, 'will you, a? I am in'--*- you in e hind- yot inferior to none of thu = .a.-tic attachment to the poetry miaic of old Caledonia, and since you re- istan'ce— will jou let me have the list of tea vou intend for them, thTtlma/h^ve an mthat you shall'pleaseto aemend for it. Profit is quite a secondary consideration with us, and we are resolved to spare neither pains nor ex- pense on the publication. Tell me frankly then, whether you will devote your leisure , at your pleasure, for your own jl li,- ;; - Apropos, if you are for English verses, is, on my part, an end of the matter, her in the simplicity of the ballad, or the ; of the song, I can only hope to pleas-- niy-elt in being i.l.utted a lea=t a .-prinki :.l of rly'lhe works" of Scotsmen, t"/t S have P me'ritl e certainly very eligible. • Tweedside ;' 'Ah ! e pcor Shepherd's mournful fa ' d I now •■ .- cu " songs in theii any of the st, 'To Fanny . could I impart,' &c. usually set to • The t has already appeared, and wonld doubly disgrace a collection thai wiT have tha DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. your undertaking, to talk of money, w; fee, hire, &c. would be downright prostiti of soul ! A proof of each of the songs tl speed the wark !" I am, Sir, your very humble servant, R. BURNS. No. III. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Edinburgh, 131A October, 17£ taking. We have now no doubt of being able to produce a collection highly deserving of public attention, in all respects. I agree with you in thinking English verses, VGrses are necessary ; because the English be- ef Scotland ; but if you mean that i verses, except those by Scottish authors, ought to be admitted, I am half inclined to diner from you. I should consider it unpardonable to sacriiice one good song in the Scottish di- alect to make room for English verses ; but the not be the very bigotry of literary p , merely be born south o f the Tweec ? Our sweet Nannie 0, ' collection is the poorest stuffthat All n Ramsay eve beginning, '1 M..1- =.)!,!•■• health,' aus vers so finely to Dr Percy' fulscng, -ONant air. Howe confine you o English v »rses : you sh be allowed a sprinkling f f t our a ^ UT m as you eleg antly expre enily wait : thing only 1 beg, which be decent. Let her nc would blush or wound tba iug delicacy which for dowry of our daughters. I do not con soug to be t le most proper vehicle t and brillian simplicity, 1 should be its prominent if our songs, the writers have confounded limplicity with coarseness and vulgarity ; ilthough, between the one and the other, as No. IV. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. s tell you, that you a your criticism are just; the songs you spec matter man- A fine pacing ? horsew ' a clear chained bridle, t, gie me my love, and a fig for the v, arid. No. XIX. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. rih April, 1793. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRAE Y. of composing for- jour publication has added lo meat to ballads! your book, &c. ballad-making fot°ifi^a a «on°TJ ,e UndJ Toby's ^sTi'U e'en canter it away till I come to the limit of my race, (God grant that I may take the right side of the winning post !) and then ch. eriully looking back on the honest folks with whom I have been happy, I shall say, or sing, ' Sae o thevo ce of Co.la* sh you a'!' 5 or a few pre b ve occurred at random o rhe firs line dse s of 'The last veral other li tiful: b y op.moi shade of Ramsav ! the song is unworthy of the divine air. I shall try to make, or mend. 'For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove,' is a charming song ; but ' Logan burn and Logan braes,' are sweetly susceptible of rural ima- gery : I'll try that likewise, and if I nice- d, the other song may class among the English ones. I remember the two last lines of a verse in some of the old songs of ' Logan Water,' (for I know a good many different ones) which I think pretty : "Now lelli .V.! y Pute, This is surely far unworthy of Romsay, or your book. My song, ' Rigs of Barley,' lo the same tune, does not altogether please me, but if I can mend it, and thresh a few loose sentiments out of it, I will submit it to your consideration. « The Lass o' Patie's Mill ' is friend, Mr Erskim will take into hi ir J. Sinclair's i claims, one, I thi d the other from j ilical tie with the then Eal and one forenoon, rid ng at Loudon Cas- her to Earl John: ering behind, he composed the first sketch of it, which he produced at dinner. ' One day I heard Mary say,' is a fine song- ; but for consistency's sake, alter the name • Adonis.' Was there e^ei such banns pub- lished, as a purpose of marriage between 'Ado- nis and Mary?' I agree with you that my song, • There's nought but care on every hand, ' is much superior to • Poortith cauld.' The original song « The mill, mill O, ' though ex- sible ; 'still I like the title, and think'a Scottish " And sweetly the nightingale sung from the In the first place, the nightingale sings in a second place, there never was a nightingale seen or beard on the banks of the Dee, or on the banks of any other river in Scotland. fiat. If I ct 's Museum, Tullochgorum, Lumps o' puddin, Tibl , are v ell w rthy of prestr- There i alsoo song of he Muse known of t until 1 ral ed ' Cra nWoo d;' anc in the on jf Mr CI ail--, b one f our s ,v eel est in your list, though they a: < Shepherds I have lost my of «The Chevalier's Lament alludes) worthy of the first BURNS. — CORRESPONDENCE. all pretty, bul his 3i.lv thing ill which it is in my bensible. You know I ought i I thing of my own trade. Of pathos, No. XX. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Edinburgh, April, 1793. t rejoice to find, my dear sir, that ballad- !iope you will amble it away for many a year always equally happy in his pieces ; still I can- not approve of taking such liberties with an is Mr W. I came o'er piecs of hi proposes doing wit the Moor.' Let ape idea of another, a lute for eve bv Heaven , in the dark and 'twould be sacril No. XXL MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. >ek, and a new lock, and a lot, by this, objec c' Pa ie\. M 1,' must be left out will be nothing worse for it. I am are bonnie.' Perhaps i'/ might v. stanza and be the tetter fur i . ■ i in Aberdeen' you must leave will * >'< ir, on the lady whom I attempted to celebrate i the verses, ' Poortith cauld and restless .ove. ' At any rate, my other song, ■ Green row the rashes,* will never suit. That song i current in Scotland under the old title, and ) the merry old tune of that name ; which of ourse would mar the prog i fours . iu elebrity. Your book r-=" "" = "■•■?= fori eep your judginen .n the : o suit • Bonnie Dundee, ' I send you ilad to the ' Mill, mill O. 'i last time I came o'er the Moor,' I Ramsays be the - ■. " ', '■■ •'Yestreen I got a pint of wine, A place where body saw ua : Yestreen lav on this breast of mine, The gowden locks of Anna." It is highly characteristic of our Bard, 1 wiih the air, to which he proposes it should allied. * The original letter from Mr Thomson ci and on the manner of adapting the words The subsequent letter of Mr Burns refers to *eral of these observations, f The reader has already seen that Burns :e them silly. Do you k: not finally adopt all of Mr E oiild perhap ire for whici mple; you woub send you likewi which I had taken down from DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Johnson's Museum. * I eccentricily, perhaps, depends a great pari of No. XXII. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. April, 1793. veil thou •earn that - Condem a hopeless ha And s ! Iai.-u:.-k ; To feel a Yetd Lre not speak my angu sh. The wre ch of love , unseen, un I fain The bur ting sigh, Betray the hope I know Thou wilt nor c Forp ty'ssake Themu ic of thy t ongue I heai I -awtl ne eyes y t nothing fe "•'« be of service to the work is my first wish. As I have often told you, I do not in a single in- you— whatever Mr Ple'yel does, let him hofal- ter one iota of the original Scottish airs ; I mean, in the song department ; but let our national music preserve its native features. They are, 1 own, ir,-qu-iuly wild and irreduc- No. XXIII. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Edinburgh, 26th April, 1793. I heartily thank you, my dear sir, for your last two letters, and ihe songs which accompanied tertained by your observations ; and the frank- to me highly agreeable. It is very possible I not have the true idea of simplicity in losition. I confess there are several songs consider simplicity, rightly understood, as a most e^sentii 1 quality in composition, and the gladly appropriate vour most interesting new ballad • When wild war's deadly blast,' &c. to the 'Mill, mill, O, ' as well as the other of the songs. That would be absurd indeed! With the airs which he introduces into the he pleases, but that has nothing to do with the P. S. I wish you would do as you proposed with your 'Rigs o' Barley.' If the loo-e an air for it ; but as to this there is no hurry. No. XXIY. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. Jane, 1793. . that a friend of im much interested, has sacrifice to these accursed times, you ily allow When I tell you, nj d t The lines w e p. 197. "Wi'mony i alos fer. I shall now, with as much alacrity an muster, go on with your commands. Vou know Fraser, the hautboy play BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. erulous melody probably hat e plaintive indication" of s fired at the tyrai ilka thought and free, breeze flew o'er me : langer sport and play- Underneath the grass green sod, [ should wish to herj how this pleases you. No. XXV. MR BURNS TO ME THOMSON. January, 5, 1793. ave you ever, my dear sir, felt your bosor --■--. on reading c uide km.oio: it kingdom, d of .1 is of a he first number of Mr Thomson's Mus , by Mr ErsWne's ad del, to snbstil of scim If I Tune — "Logan water." O, Logan sweetly didst thou glide. The birds vc-jc The bees hu.i Blythe morni ■1'uU- eafy bowers", the breathing fl My d ™ng While Willie ■tl-s \ far r a a'eTog7u'brae S Within yon n K itottrSSh Or wt' his so But I, wi' mj Nae mate to r Pass widow'd While Willie gher rial's ThIt' e brMur'en rou™ e Sefh; How can your The widow's hearts enjoy he orphan's cry Till fley'd awa by Phcebus* light. " This thought is inexpressibly beautiful and qoite, so far as I know, original. It is to short for a song, else I would forswear yo tigh better suited to the music, these lines nferior to the original. This is the only ation adopted by Mr Thomson, which DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. altogether, unless you gav e it a place. I hav After balancing a musing fi d-le X5 of produced the fol far or to the fore I frankly confes it if worthy of in at all, they migl g of bis trad stroked hIS b6S the ught for a cone tiding O were my lo eyo nlila eh fair, VVi* purple And I a bird t Wben wear edo amy little wing. How I wad in Wh£ n it was torn When youthfu' May its bloom No. XXVI. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Monday, 1st July, 1793. tm extremely sorry, ray good sir, that ai ing should happen to unhinge you. Tl motiy w The t Tbel rests entirely on myself, I „ jriginally agreed to join in thi laving requested to be off. No m I cannot be. The superior exee work will create a general dema ;oon as it is properly known. . obliged to you for the exquisite nev are sending me ; but thanks, my fi elegant one will follow for the Englis Your apostrophe to statesmen is admirable, supposed gentle character of the fair mourner No. XXVII. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. July 2, 1793. lished tl following it you. The fairest maid was bonnie Jea And aye she wrought her mammie' The'blyT Had D< it hawks will r< lighter hea than •r i;v. s <■ fa r break the soundest re ts tie brawest lad, 1 pride of a' the glen tn, sheep and kye, lS in the bosom o' the stream, The moon-beam dwells at dewy Within the breast o' bonnie Jea Jear.ie fair O canst the Or wilt thou BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. dear; get of what place; but from R lacy me ? j What a charming apostriphe is le fortune, why this en ir byre thou shall na drudge, i Why, why to ! The old ballad, < I wish I were where Helen of °it in Johnson's is not"mueh better. Mr Pin- i aye between them e thoughts of inserl and fame; which will now be trie ■s of Taste— all whom Being a bard of nature, I have so me preten- rranted by your great No. XXVIII. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. July, 1793. me with your pecuniary parcel. It dfgrades me in my own eyes. However, to return it would sa, our of affectation ; but as to anv more traf- fic of that debtor and creditor kind, I swear by that Honour which crowns the uprisrht sta- tue of Robert Burr.s's Inteirritv-oa the least r-.o. ion cf :c, I •■'. . . - .:. i .;. -.■■■■• .■•-',. tbfe 'stringer to^u \ Bur™s''s charl acter for generosity of sentiment and indepen- No. XXIX. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS, Edinburgh, August, 3 793. letters, and am happy to find you are qu pleased witl When you c sirjplv : my copy of you ' The Flowers of the Foresl ic notes : but, though out c dinburgh. She is a Mrs Coc •Thebi he char" " will be c hope you is ae night,' and several of the live ait the muse's leisure : these are f orlhy of her choicest gifts ; besidt > the 'Thel lord Gregory, ' and the like ; for in he manner the Ui or !J- fr :( i '.' er.tly sun-, v-u ense. Indeed both the airs and words are urging sty e in which they are too often per. 'expression * There is a cony cf this ballad given i he account of the parish of Kirkpatric'k-Fleu n", (which contains the tomb of Fair Hele DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. No. XXX MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. August, 1793. I hold the pen for our friend Clarke, who, i a! m' r "'e!l-v.' l ."" V, 'i''"e ' Georgium Sidus.'b thinks, is rather out of tune ; so, until he ret He Confound ypv .ited, I S. CLARKE. No. XXXI. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. PHILLIS THE FAIR. Tune— " Robin Adair. " breathing spring, d fare ; 's golden eye, Phillis the fair. it to the opening day, i thy bbom, did I say 1 ","" ,1111== the fair. Phillis the fair, nuch for namby-pamby. I may, after t the last band to the song 1 Id Kail in Aberdeen.' If it ■t it, I shall be pleased, as Nj. XXXII. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. stances attending this publication of in Be, that it has procured me so many of your much vain d epistles. Pray make my acknowledge . ments to St Stephen for the tunes : tell him I admit the justness of his complaint on my your j u d'esprit; which I perused more than though a sagacious friend, acquainted with the convivial habits of the poet and the musician, ottered me a bet of two to one, you were just drowning care together ; that an empty bowl was the only thing that would deeply affect I shall b dair' a Scottish dress. Peter is furnishing m with an English suit for a change, and you are well matched together. Robin's air is excellent, though he certainly has an out of wight was plagued with. I wish you would be substituted for the concluding objectionable verses of « Down the burn Davie,' so that this from good company. Mr Allan has made an inimitable drawing from your ' John Anderson my Jo,' which I am to have engraved, as a frontispiece to the humorous cla^s of songs ; you will be quite charmed with it, I promise you. The old couple are seated by the fireside. Mrs Ander- son in great good humour, is clapping John's with such glee, as to show that he fully recol- were < first acquent. ' The drawing would do the pencil of Tenters. No. XXXIIL MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. August, 1793. That crinkum-crankum tune • Robin Adair, has run so in my bead, and I succeeded so il in my last attempt, that I have ventured iu tbi; iir, will remember an ui ■orthy friend C.'sst-jr*. iL..-> -ars ago. That BURNS. —CORRESPONDENCE. er,* or ' My love Annie's very bon Where the winds howl to the wave's dashing grove, The yellow corn was waving ready : There would I weep my woes, Ih^n'd to a lover's sang, There seek my last repose, And thought on youthfu' pleasures moo Till grief my eyes should close, dearly do I lo'e thee Annie, f ° Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare, happy be the woodbine bower, All thy fond plighted vows— fleeting as air! Nae nightly bogle mak it eerie ; To thy new lover hie, Laugh o'er thy perjury, The place and time I met my dearie. What peace is there. She, sinkin said, "I'm thine for ever ! While mony a kiss the seal impress'd, By the way, I have met -with a musical Hollander, in Breadalfaane's fencibles, which The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever. The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae, well remembers his mother singing Gaelic How cheery through her shortening day, chree.' They certainly have more of the Scottish than Irish' taste in them. But can they melt the glowing heart, This man comes from the vicinity of Inver- Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure ness ; so it could not be any intercourse with Or through each nerve the rapture dart, lish." Thefai called a HighL rvith a Gaeli , I think, it is. Do No. XXXIV. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSt r unworthy of so fine it formerly occupiec it of your fancy. No. XXXY. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. August, 1793. 'Whist to e of j our day I se airs? I the folio dmire it much : and y ving verses to it. Urba X om Im re , begged them of me, th theloo the air m 'her a b n t evU I eye d on S y a c !,r if rk, I di - "- . not choo se to comply.^Howev m! UI The U set of' the a - v which I ha a in my e e, is in Johnson's A ti- O vhistle nd I'll co me to you, my lad, \ ° whistle nd I'll cc me to you, my lad ; *Arno ntain we t of Strath-Allan, 3003 -R. B. Or, " my lov R. B. t la some of the MSS. the first four li nes DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. jt beauty, how frail and how rieotiiit Mr Clarke begs you to give Miss Phillis I corner in your book, as she is a partioulai flame of his. She is a Miss P. M., sisler t< 'onnie Jean. They are both pupils of his, fou shall hear from me, the very first grist . get from my rhyming mill. may lightly my beauty a wee ; anither though joking ye be, ' 7 frae me. • The muck- g slow, with had had bel- fry ; that I have endeavoured to supply No. XXXVI. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. August, 1793. tat tune ' Cauld Kail,' is such a favourite of tt the muses ;t when the r.'ili-r in. e song on my glowi ice, dfnce I left Coil ■y musings, by catch s hither, or at leas .its; secondly, the 1 And on thy lips 1 wilight, probably from gloom- il poetical word which ought England. A gloamin-shot, a BURNS.- CORRESPONDENCE. i. I am not fond of choruses 1c lave uot made one for the foregoii No. XXXVII. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. August 1793. DAINTY DAVIE. The crystal waters round us Meet rue, &c. When purple morning starts To steal upon her early fare, ch for Dav low part o: n the Mus No. XXXVIII. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Edinburgh, 1st Sept. 17C3. nee wrilii.gyoula pith whicl The lOJ.OU ling Nith,' and ' By j you. The rinion we are now f< rming, I tbink can never be broken ; these son gs of yours will descend with the music to the latest posterity, and will be fondly eker shed so long as genius t of Til the' fa- vours I have to ask of her, twenty and three ! I have bu dened the pleas- is piobable he will attend to: most of the would puzzle the English pc et not a Tittle, No. XXXIX. -MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. SepL 1733. exertion in my power is heartily at your ser- vice. But one thing I must him to vou ; the very name of Peter Pindar is of great service now and then; though I have nTobjertion, 'as well as I cau, to bear the burden of the busi- * Dainty Davie is ng, from which B DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of Liberty and Independence, which I threw into a kit ' Df Scottish ode, fitted to the air that one mij] suppose to be the gallant Royal Scot's addre [o his heroic followers on that eventful mori No. XL. SIR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. BRUCE TO HIS TROOPS. :ay, my dear sir, that you er, I can't help it ; a bi To its own Tune. Scots, wha hae wi' Walhce bled, Scots wham Bruce has aftenled ; s the day, and now's the 1 le front o' battle lcnr ; >proach proud Edward's i :hains andslaTerie! Then once it has fairly m ess wight, it gets se enamout inkle-gingle, tinkle-gingle of it hat it is sure to run noor Pil-sar lam jockey, quii :e u f u~. n your book. I have Let him follow n: Lay the proud usurpers low : Let us Do or Die > ' So may God ever defend the cause of Trutl and Liberty, as he did that day ! — Amen. P. S.— I showed the air to Urban:, who w* highly pleased with it, and ' softi t I had tofgi . ouble on the subject, till I _ __ dental recollection of that glorious struggle fo: freedom, associated with the glowing iu'eas o Clar ;et of the t n the Musi te, with h m ; though I am afra poet during a storm among the wilds of Gien- Ken, in Galloway. A more finished copy will be found afterwards. fowl round me cry my wistfjl'eye : No. XLI. MR THOMSON" TO MR BURNS. Edinburgh, bth Sept. 3 7S*. I believe it is generally allowed that the great- uredly your partiality for this tune nr.ut uris- raditiou concerning it, for I never heard any , e rson,-and I have conversed again and gain with the greatest enthusiasts for Scot- BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 277 ird any one speak of , ' Through the wood laddie :' I am decidedly ! of opinion, that both in this and • There'll ne- rer the whole hnn- I ver he peace till Jamie comes hame, ' the r high part of the tune being a repeli- ie tirst part an octave higher, is only variation of the fourth line, which I shall pre- ter omitted in singing.' sentl? submit to you. There is in 'Lewie ' Cowden-knowes. ' Remember in your in- Gordon' more of the grand than the plaintive, | des that the song in pure English to this tune, about substituting your ode in the room of ' Lewie Gordon,' which has neither the inter- the only line too short for the air, is Verse 1st, Or to glorious victorie. 2d, Chains -chains and sla 3d, Let him, let him turn a 4th, Let him bravely follow 5th, But they shall, they sh 6Ui, Let us, let us do or di< proposed. These little alterations I submit No. XLIL MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. September, 1793. rn, Davi< half of the thin As down the 1 many of them he merely signifies All his remarks of^any in nted to the reader. expression ; then choose my theme ; begin one nerally the most difficult part of the business, unison or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings of my bosom ; humming every now and then the air with the verses I have framed. When I feel my music begin- my study, and there commit my effusions to ■enatCrookie-den.'&c. is objectionable in pc :h admired by our ba DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 'Aula Sir Simon,' I mast beg you to leav. it, and put in its place, ' The Quaker's wif • Iilvi'ie hae I r — .e bill * is one of Jtiful, lovely mrpose giving you the names and desig. is of all my heroines, to appear in some er, Jamie, Thou has ered out and began i like, before I pi Eng'lish. FRAGMENT. ne-" Saw ye my father But sorrow and sad s'ghing c: 'en I'll close— ne ' Jocky and Jennj' I the h'jii-e,' which has a <" The Scottish (the Editor uses the word bstantively, as the English) employ the ab- matioo, I'll for I shall as well as I will; d it is for I shall it is used here. In An- ndale, as in the northern counties of En=- id, for I shall, they use 1'se. t This is the whole of the song, the bard ver proceeded farther.— Note by Mr J'/iom- .rdingly, you incert, try it urn, « Ye ban AULD LANG SYNE. Ud the daj s o' lang syne Chorus. For auld lang si We'll iuld Ian ir auld laJig syue. •I * BURNS. —CORRESPONDENCE. Nob's the day ai For auld, &c. :wahaepaidleti' the burn, and, my trusty fiere, land o' thine; Now, I suppose I have tired your patience number of ballads," properly so called'. ' Gill Morice, Tranent Muir, M-Phersun's Fare- well, Battle of Sheriff-muir,' or ' We ran and land's Co ::,l int, a .Of.k ;, s. It t nks o' He an has bro to light" nr; aTitrt' 11. tory of but it i? a - w : t curios ty. 1 No. XLIII. Mil BURNS TO .MR THOMSON. e altered the song as follows : BANNOCKBURN. Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled ; Scots wham Bruce has aften led ; Welcome to your gory bed, Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw ! Freeman stand or freeman fa', Caledonian! on wi' me! shall be-shall be frei he common stall edition of Wallace. And liberty returns with every blow'. " A couplet worthy of Homer. Yesterday ou had enough of my correspondence. The ost goes, and my head aches miserablv. >ne comfort; I suffer No. XLIV. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. A thousand tha your observat/o nks to y s on tbe is! o7my : 'L-~. ir, for gs. I am happy to £n lyouride specting he gener '->■ of the airs as well as the vers s. Abou differ, but there puling ab lobby- horses. I sha 1 not fa to proli by ; and to reconside l lie witb attention. < Dainty Dav he suns t together and th en the ch the proper something rf pa i.m, la 1 p-, ,ii, led wilh ai fee !ing; e b at a tend ively air, if -,OU s n S t very vely, and ivords. clearly and invan 5 for re- taining the cheerful tune able. But the ng for • F ther,' which yo ack fmid- n addition e. Mr JamVs Balfour 1 ," of good f lio'A of the li ely Scott sh allad? that ever exfste 1, has charmed tb companies with •Fee h m, faiher 'ar d wits DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. disuni vould V, is so coarse and -vulgar, that I think it fit only and ' Saw ye my father' appears to me both indelicate and silly. One word more with regard to your heroic death more frightful than it is. Gory, presents a disagreeable image to the mind; and to tell again under your notice. I would suggest, '• Now prepare for honour's bed, Or for glorious victorie." No. XLV. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. Sept. 1793. " Who will decide when doctors disagree V My ode pleases me so much that I cannot al I have finished my song to • Saw ye my father ;' and in English, as you will see. That there is a syllable loo much for the ex- say, that the mere dividing of a dotted crotchet into a crotchet and a quaver, is not a great mat. to cope in judgment with you. Of the ptetry I speak with confidence; but the music is a business where I hint my ideas with the ut- The old verses have merit, though unequal, and are popular ; my advice is to set the air to the old words, and let mine follow as English FAIR JENNY. Tur e—'S w ye my father.' 'T\i ; ,o; ' \ 'that aw arTy^ngT lited my wand "'"? the wi d woods among ? ;',l:'i nding gswe he cours t flow're s of yon river, s so fair j mposed. Bruce's troops were inured , and familiar with all its sufferings and s. On the eve of that memorable day, pirits were without doubt wound up tc nay be sup- * Mr Thomson has very properly adopted your lis song, if it may be so called, as the bard seem resented it to him. He has attached it to the deed Et pitch of mortal exertion. Thei i might be illustrated and supportec ice to the martial poetry of M n; Mi* "Mr Yel a discouraginj mt^oMts ■red. Perl rved that Burns adopted the alterations pro- of taste c n the altar of the imagination. And privilege of superior genius, by pro- ,ev. association, to elevate expressions deed, on all indifferent occasions. In the orieinaily low, and thus to triumph over the deficiencies of language. In how lough repeatedly urged, with determined re- many ir stances might this be exemplified link... With every respect for the judg- works of our immortal Shakspeare. ent of Mr Thomson and his friends, we may e satisfied that be did so. He who in prepar- «' Who wou!d/ar« Onagh's Water-fall." few vh"; igly o'e 1*1 !.-r mii ugbing V. i.A ii akeo. w Unto these ros Wad make a saint forget the sky, Sae wa Herf and graceful air ; Ilk feat re— auld Nature " Declared that she Hersar By co nquering beauty's sovereign law ; And aye Shes »vsshe lo'es rue best of a'. J-»t others love the c >J. Andg Gieme he lonely va ley. Thed Fair bea m ng andstr earning. Hers boughs amar.g ; While f illing.'recall ng, The a rhere, c earest Chlor :$™ npling burn and leafy shaw, : in music is like the mighty Frederick of requently admired what the connoisseurs ied, and always without any hypocrisy essed his admiration. I am sensible that unes. Still, because I am cheaply pleased, i that any reason why I should deny mvself knt P and U m ' ^P^an- njoyment, where you and other judges would irobauly be showing disgust. For instance, I am just now making verses for ' Sothicmur- er can make verses to it. Here I have " on his t of the un e"fori "h™"" taken the first d the fourth or /kTthe work, and possibiy^-ou may think, poetry is as little worth •■-■ on as th me in this ae ht.' D ik that we ought to retain if ust retain both ..:;; £-. I dO notrilo - = ifr ;~;":e iza of the old the third line of he first tanza, b self. I three stan zas deep in it. \V >uld you have lie •denouem nt" to be sue. s In the original follow here two stanzas of nnine, the lint-white is ;' which will be found at full length af- ter wards. BURNS.- CORRESPONDENCE. Verw'ise ; should she "let him in' ' peared since the ' Duenu : (here is lit not once pvopose « The Sow's tail the fable, or in the d.i audience. They are chi ited with it; but I acknowledge and pageantry. I think ark of its real excellence. I once rses fo> it, which I meant to be in the poetry, at the same t e way/of a lover and his mi, tress iul >Lur, Part of the s 5 lhom,oil'» Christian name, and be to our favourite Scotti afraid, is rather burlesque for senti- be left with the Londo for Drury Lane, or Sine both of them very able ar. you like the following epigram, I believe that interest »te the other day on a lovely young often necessary to have How d. which I wi girl's recovery from a fever ? Dc TO DR MAXWELL, God grant you patience with this si No. LVIII. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. r fa'. st of a', ' spey music ; on the contrary, I think it highly animating aud agreeable, and that swue L f die ery pleasing songs, in the same way i hat ro .ghChristiansare-temperec and softened by lo you know, tuey h I am clear for 1 ticularly as your Mrs Thomson's ia me (Katharine) is not a' all poetical. Re Your ' Ca* the morceau. Indee fancy. Here le urned your thoughts upon dramatic' writing all its splendour. One or two successful pieces upon the London stage would make your for- tane. The rag at present is for musical dramas ; few or r one of those which have ap- iby pamby tribe of ilowery scribblers: but were you lo address Mr Sheridan himself by letter, and send him Excuse me for obu No. LIX. I THOMSON TO MR BURNS. ed, till I am half blind and wholly stupid. The few airs 1 have added, are inclosed. Peter Pindar has at length sent me all the songs I expected from him, which are in gene- ral elegant and beautiful. Have you heard of a London collection i I Set I ish airs and songs, just published by Mr Ritson an Englishman. I shall send you a copy. His introductory though he shows clearly that Air Tytler : ingenious dissertation, has adduced no proof of the hypothesis he wished to est; He snarls at my pn 'indar being engasedi ididly and unjustly le His sets of the Scol ■y person of taste, old ol : know not how long:, by l, before being collected an erent persons sang the sac DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. To descend to bu of ' When she car No. LX. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 19th October, 1794. MY DEAR FRIEND, f it. I shall, at rke goe 'to your town by ,sh you would call on r general: you kn 'dard. He will return he e again in a week asking for him. I hope he will do, persuade you to pt my" r select avourite, < Craigi -burn-wood,' in a favourite of his f mine. The lady on who of the finest women in S cotland: snd, in , (entre rne's El aistress. a friend, that yo will, in the guile ess simplicity of : e -S^J°i\ put any of your I have a glorious recipe ; the very one that for his own use was invented by the divinity of healing and poetry, when first he piped to the flocks of Admetus. I put myself in a regimen :>f admiring a fine woman ; in proportion to the adorability of her charms, in proportion you are delighted with my verses. The lighinr.T if her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and the witchery of her smile, the divinity of Helicon! you like > bolbet,' ;red a little frojn vtiat iney were formerly when set to another iir, may perhaps do instead of worse stanzas. SAW YE MY PHELY, Quasi dical Phillis.) Tune- « When she cam ben she bobbet. ' Phely ? Phely? ^ ie~hame to her Willie. What says sh e, rat dearest m, Phely Yv hat sav, si niv Phely that she has thee f And for eve r diso irns the , her Willi had I ne'er seen hee, m Phely ! had I ne'er j Phely ! As light as th Tai Thou's bro ten the heart ' tby Will Now for a f wmi cellane us remarks T Posie' (in th :um). down frorr Mrs voice.* It is n the Wes ( try, but the o •J V.O ds are rash. By he b, trusty and deservedly well-beloved, Masterton. « Donocht-head, ' is not rr would give ten pounds it were. It a| first in the Edinburgh Herald; am Newcastle post-mark on it. t ' Whist poem so highly praised by Bur, Keen blaws the wind o'er I The snaw drives snelly tb The Gaberlunzie tirls my si My Eppie wake: Get up, Guidi For K-eel ye ken BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. John Bruce, a celebrated violin player in Dum- fries, about the beginning of this century. This I know; Brace, who was an honest man, though a red-wud Highlandman, constantly claimed it ; and by all the old musical people here is believed to be the author of it. « Andrew and his cutty gun. ' The soug tc was composed on Miss Euphemia Murray, of Linlrose, commonly and deservedly called, ' How lang and dreary is the night.' I met with some such words in a collection of .on- somewhere, which 1 altered and enlarged j and « Tune— Cauld kail in Aberdeen. ' v lang and dreary is the night, When ■ 1 iiu Chorus. For oh, her lanely nights are la of the tune. There ,f tenderness in it. n, dispense with a A lady of my ac- te far frae hame. Sad party-strife o'erturn dm; And, weeping ac the eve o- life, I wander through a wreath o' ete. The author need not be rn himself. It is worthy of E that I shall gs sent into d;ye-call-um Tune—' Deil tak the wars.' st thou or wak'stlhoo, fairest erealure ' morn now lifts his eye, jriug ilka bud which Nature ihrough the leafy woods, Nature's tenants, freely, gladly stray ; While the s'u day.f. :o the sky mgs o* joy, i ilka darksome - - ning and ad, my lovely n DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. The murky shades o' care With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky ; But when in beauty's light, She meets my ravish'd sight, When through my very heart Her beaming glories dart ; 'Tis then I wake to life, toll If you honour my verses by them", I will vamp up the ol. it English enough to be unde Indian air, which you would tish one. I know the authenticity or it, as t gentleman who brought it over is a parlieul .-..■nnaintanne of mine. Do preserve me t is the only one I hai she is the object of tl you. ' O to be lying perhaps a consumma not do for singing i. :, and joy.* The songs in your las tting the air to perfectly of your op! mg, and make i additional airs. Th< ^od. to the world naked a ity, an East generous. They mu '-' decent by our friend ^I^Iam^nticii i the company of ladies bed and made friendly Cuni lee ilarke has il Mus and I ii dfor efol- THE ATJLD MAN. ly seenjn gladsome green miscellaneous remarks will, I irniing design from Maggie Lau-, dancing with such spirit as to iper, who seems almost dancing is playing with the most exqui- inclined to get a small copy, and Again Bhall bring tliem Bntmy white pow. nael indly thowe Shall melt 1 My trunk of e nn-v Oh, age has weary And nights pless Thou golden t youthfu' prime, Why corn's I would be ob » P d t Hi collection of sh songs, whic ion in your 1 will thank you for a bat as speedily as y „ pi ompletely tired fmy corresponded No. LXI. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Edinburgh, 27th October, 1794 P. S— personage. =urely 6pier for her if you No. LXII. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. the tedious dull" business of systematic igement. Indeed, as all I have to say eon- of unconnected remarks, anecdotes, scraps, ; is on the cold ground. er day to my fair Chic lame of the lovely godd< to be absolutely neces- my last, I told you my " '"J When frae my Chi ris parted, Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted, night's gloomy shades, cloudy, ( , My Chloris The prim The balmy And wav es, &c. Somelhini BURNS. —CORRESPONDENCE. fliela ■'rock hnns the palace gaj. 5 cottage s For na Tos li'pher gs'. l En 1 nslrels rdiv li_ fceTw skilfa sir Thes \: i?l ;- Bl, The p rincelj- revel may surve Our ru=tic l ance wi' L'u! a hearts as ighta Ben milk-wh But is his heart as true i These wild-wood flowers I'v, ness of this pastoral ? I tb.nk it pretty well. I like you for entering so candidly and s kindly i—' 1 - sion which I deeply feel and highly venerate ; but, somehow, it does not make such a figure in poesy as that other species of the passion, Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut is scanty and confined, but tions of the human soul. Still, 1 am a very ' siasm of the passion. The generosity d r pleasures I might light be the raptures Id give me, yet, if they interim with , I think the shift a fail i, under the same firsl in Ramsay's Tea-Tabk t down for an English was the charming month of May, hen all the flowers were fresh and j le youthful, charming Chloe ; Lovely was she by the dawn. Youthful Ch.oe, charming Chloe, Tripping o'er the pearly lawn. The youthful, charming Chloe. The feather'd people you might see In notes of sweetest melody They hail the charming Chloe. The glorious Outrival'd b; Lovely was site, &c. ifou may think meaniystfrf this, but lake a prised that I have made so much of it. 1 e wi' the lint-white locks, When Cynthia lights wi' silver ray, The weary shearers' hameward way ; Through yellow waving fields we'll st le howling wintry bias Enclasped to my faithfu' Bonnie lassie. Wilt thou wi' m Wilt thou be i DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. ite locks, is lassie, the flocks, -nt are regular!} nded. If J 11: if n ot, I wi 1 in ert it ill t "soTe'nd f temper tha t you shouk l'eiltak the foolisL old ve'r You talk y Father;' by ds is g Id to bi ass! Besides, ow pret J. w 11 moderniz iuu.,_-, originally. ns, a bu "-'' "■}"'■'■' ilml an ardent ambition to be able to compose a Scots air. Mr Clarke, partly by way of jokl , told him to keep to the black keys of the harp sichord, and preserve some kind of and he would infallibly compose a Scots air. Certain it is, that, in a few days, Mr Miller ! Clarke, with some touches and 'corrections' you know, has the same story of the ' black ke^s; ationof ,er, by that genius, Tom D'Urfey ; so has no pretensions to be a Scot- tish production. There is a pretty English song by Sheridan, in the ' Daenna, ' to this air, which is out of sight superior to D'Urfey's. It begins, "When e night each drooping plant re storing. " -, if I understand the expression of i y, is the very native language of simpli air? It know, wa n, a gentleman whom possibly )o g of Scottish music, Miller express * See the song in its first and best di ). 2S9. Our bard remarks upon it, •' 1 •asily throw this into an English mould son" in p. 26S of this ' it for another tune. Th portanU The name S Eiiza. Instead of th lines, as in p. 201, he i I fain my griefs would cover. ' Instead of the fourteenth line, not perfectly grammatical as it has, more properly, ition ought to have been preferred, had luaintance, who took down the es from a t itinerant piper in the Isle of n. How difficult then to ascertain the se'lf'Tave lately seen a couple of ballads g through neat the ht ad of them as the author, though vas the firs time I had ever seen them. u for admitting • Craigie-burn Jd;' and shall take care lo furnish you ha newc orus. In fact, (he chorus was air. If -burn wood' altogether. My rt ismucl, in the theme. ed, my dear fellow, to make the nest; 'tis unning your generosity ; but in ry information out of them, I wi 1 return ou Ritson's volumes. The lady is not a little proud that ake so distinguished a figure in you Lucky r when I am in a scribbling humour I know No. LXIIL MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 15th Korember, 1791 e receiving ycur last, I have had anoi view v.iih Mr Clarke, and a long con n. lie tuinks the • Caledonian Hum accordingly. Pir.y did it ever occur to ye how peculiarly well the Scottish airs at adapted for verses, in the form of dialogue BURNS — CORRESPONDENCE. pilch, but by a female voice. A song thus would think of it in some of those'that remain. swetdy pastoral for • Deil lak th them. Your s My "dgiliT feci. . a diamond of the t. Some of jour Chlorises I suppose ha relsT'we r0 drffer U about'u l i > for I shou Davie,' will answer charmingly. I am bappy not how long they be, for it is impossible that Sips necta "upon tl any thing from your pen can be tedious. Let me beseech you to use no ceremon;. The wood When eve three copies, and you are as welcome to twenty es to a pinch of snuff. As is a Let fortun And fools No. LX1V. ^AndTha MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 19th November, 1794. What's a' O Philly, happy be that day When rovfng through the gatl And by thy charms, my Ph: re ilka day And a c d b5m :: u-i' r my. s on the brie rlh She. iir The love I bear II); Wi 7e' I am much pleased with your idea of sing- that remain, I shall have it in my eye. I re- but it is the common abbreviation^ Phillfs' Sally, the only other name (hat suits, has, to my ear, a vulgarity about it, which unfits it for any thing except burlesque. The legion of brother editor, Mr Ritsont rack's witl'meC'as for simplicity ; whereas simplicity is as much etofgriee from vulgarity on ihe one hand, as I agree wiih yon as to the air, 'Craigie-burn 231 DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. chorus going first, (hat is the case with < Roy's Wife,' as well as ' Rothiemurche. ' In fact, in the first part of both tunes, the rhyme is larity depends i Since yesterday's penmanship, I have fram- ed a couple of English stanzas, by way of aa ■'■^ to Roy's wife. You le want of. fO Roy's wife of Aldivalloc f O Ro> 's v { lassie w method, it is like the grating screw ;is my taste; if I am wrong I beg that it would make an subj.-ct' though the few we have an unparalleled c ir.p, and bis cutty gun* is t By the way, are you not quae vra tainly were, who corop lyrics, should be unki sh ; 1 co yesterday^for aa air I lit e much- Contented wi' little and cantie wi Whene'er I forgather w ' £ ° rr ° w Tune — " Roy's wife Chorus. Is this thy faithful swain's reward— An aching, broken heart, my Katy ? B " Wad wring my bosom shouldst thou leave me I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome But man is a sedger, and life is a faught : And when ibis heart proves fause to thee, Stay, my Willie, &c. A towinondo' trouble, should that be my fa'. A night o' guid fellowship sowtliers it a' : But to think I was belray'd, That falsehood e'er our love should sunder, Wha the diel ever thinks o' the road he has To take the flow 'ret to my breast, And find the guilefu' serpent under ! Stay, my Willie, &c. Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on Could I hope thou'dst ne'er deceive, Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jad gae : I'd slight, nor seek in other spheres ihal heaven I'd find within thy bosom. My warst word is-' Welcome and welcome Slay, my Willie, &c. again 1 It may amuse the reader to be told, that, on If you do not relish the air, I will send it to this occasion, the gentleman and the lady have Johnson. exchanged the dialects of their respective ■.■!■.." Tile Scottish haivl mitcc l.i= =A. BURNS — CORRESPONDENCE. Well! I think this, to be done in three turns across my room, and with three pinches of Irish Blackguard, is iss. Yon Tery rude instrument. _ It is composed of thn bone of a sheep, 'such as you see in a nrattoi and notched like that vvhicl nd, 'is he d L) the ha- L> playic K- The lock has . _ on the up] -e, i; ute. Th sof m ie, ;;; nisi' actly an from mt.tn Ho-.-, ..*r rly bored n the hoi not il lowing it sht;; . f. le use of t. If .Mr il ser i him a ight of n, ;-; : s 1 i°V nysetf to be a 'oets is nae sin, 1 and, will I say it/that I look a Mr Allan and Mr Burns to be the only enuine and real painters of Scottish custom in No. LXV. a THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 2SthNov. 1794. I acknowledge, my d. s, i i quently nihb ing at lines and couplet "ofyou" incomparable lyrics, for which if JO me right, you me to the de il. Onthecou- ra.-v, 1, ou have all a el to in be wonderful if I have somc- self the airs of a reviewer. -iv.-.r :" -,k:.; demands un ill the che/d'a ■wore. L umps ofpudd Kg shall certain- dress in VureE glish ; (he r ply, on the part Df the la he Scottish lialect, is. if we ni,t;.ke not, by young and b autiful English- n you find yourself in good s I mean to have a picture painted from your beautiful ballad, The soldier's return, to be engraved for one of my frontispieces. The most interesting; point of time appears tome, when she recognizes her ain dear Willy, ' She gazed, she redden'd like a rose.' The three lines immediately following, are no doubt more impressive on the reader's feelings ; but were ■ a niche by'thf-ude of" Burns *i ° the^cofus!! lipe by the Scottish shepherds, and when, a rig and roaring. Af.iendof mine says, emembers to have heard one in his young hat'the sound wis abom^ablJ ™ ™" ' *' Do not, 1 beseech you, return any books. No. LSVI. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. Dec 1794. ny thing to forward, or add to "the value sur book; and as I agree with you that ll acobite song, in the Museum, to There' n-er be peace till Jamie comes hame, would n > well consort with Peter Pindar's exeelle. ve-song to the air, I have just framed for yo MY NANNIE'S AWA. ■ds warble welcome in ilka a it's delightless— my Nannie's a DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. They mind me o' Nannie—and N Thou lav'rock that springs frae th I thou, mellow mavis night-fa', e over for pity — my Nan .d laughs at a' that, mak a belted knight, Alaue can delight me — now Nan How does this please yon ? Ai lainly be at—' She gazed. ' T e higher ranks ih Then let us pray that No. LXVIL MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. January, 1795. 1 fear for my songs ; however, a few may ualit, is ; style, disa ; K.r thef Dt give you , but merelv the piece is' Wowing do f the foregoing song for by way of trice laba^a- ot really poetry. Hew or Craigie-burn mod 1 A ml ut a' Can Fa's the eve blythe awak the pride o' ield me noc n Craigie-burn, pring's return If thou refuse to pity ir lowed, I think, to be two or three pretti good prose thoughts, inverted into rhyme. FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. Is there for honest poverty Farewell ! God bless you. The man's the gowd for a' that. What though on namely fare we c G.'e fools their silks, 'and knaves' BURNS.— CORRESPONDENCE. No. LXVIIL The sweetest flower that Now trodden like the vil MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Let simple maid the lessc The weird may be her Edinburgh, ZOtli Jan. 1795. I tell you no I thank you heartily for Nannie's awa, as well The bird that charm'd hi Is now the cruel fowler's How aft he Itelijoun I do not know whether as fur Craizi, bum, which 1 tli.uk a very come- ly pair. Your observation on the difficulty of same style, strikes me very forcibly ; aud it has again and again excited my wonder to find you continually surmounting this difficulty, in the No. LXIX. MR BURNS TO .MR THOMSON. February, 1 795. ere is another (rial at your favourite air. Time—* Let me in this ae night. ' ->■• love has bound me hand and foot, >wer that deck'd the mead, Thou hear'st the wi Nae star blinks tbro Tak pity on my wea CAorus. .is ae night, ;e thTs ae night, The bitter blast that round m Unheeded howls, unheeded f The caulduess o' thy heart's HER ANSWER. O tell na me o' wind and rain, I tell you now this The snellest blast at mirkest hoars, That round the pathless wand'rer po la nought to what poor she endures That's trusted faithless man, jo. I tell you now, &c. No. LXX. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. Ecclefechan, T.h February, 1795. superable bare. To the hands of a butcher", and thinks himself, on that very account, exceeding good company. and deed,) 1, of t, rrote you yesterda; 'slowishfmf .cw bould think It worthy ot r p U re a senUrave d no nair to yon town ? °J ■A with it ; ant No. LXXI. MR THOMSON TO .MR Bl'BNS. 25th February, 1735. ir, for two DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. U fur O teat ye tcha's in yon I No. LXXIL MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. Time—' Where'U bonnie Annie lie Or, ' Loch-Erroch Side. ' O stay, sweet. warbling woodlark, sta Nor quit for me the trembling spray, A helpless lover courts thy lay, Thy soothing fono complaining. Again, again that tender part, That I may catch thy melting art : Fur surely that wad touch her heart, Wha kills me wi' disdaining. Stay, was thy little ma And heard thee as the < Thou tells o' ne O' speechless gr Fur pity's sake, Or my poor h. Letm w your very first leis ON CIILORIS BEING ILL. Time— ' Aye wakin'. ' Long, long the night. Heavy comes the morrow, While iiiy soul's delight, Is on her bed of sorrow. Can I cease to care. White my'd^ling faf™ ' Is on the couch of anguish? Long, &c Every hope is fled. Every fear is terror ; Slumbe'r e'en 1 dread, E L? n g d .Tc , . i9h0rr0r ' How do you like the foregoing ? The Irish air, " Humours of Glen, " is a great favourite of miue, and as, except the silly stuff in the « Poor Koldier,' there are not any deceat SONG. Tune— « Humours of Glen.' Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands Where bright-beaming summers exalt the Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow Far dearer to me are yon humble broom Where the blue bell and gowan lurk lowly For there, lightly tripping amaDg the wild A-listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny And cauld ' Caledonia's blast on the wave; Their sweej-scente i slav hey? The s that skirt ll He wande Save Lo 5 spicy forests, and gc 3 Caledonian views will i as free as the winds of 'e's willing fetters, the c SONG. Tune—' Ladd Twas na her bonny bl Twas the" dear smile Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me ; Sair do I fear that despair maun abide m But tho' fell fortune should fate us to sev Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest, And thou hast plighted me love o' the dee And thou'rt the angel ■'--■ notion would falter. Let me hear from jou. No. LXXIII. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. BURN9 — CORRESPONDENCE Lovely as yonder s' "the y CoUCT''s Saturday 5 Night' ^'"in a opinion, one of the happiest productions Burns finds you out among th rpress the feeling of admiratio • Chlori of these ' Laddi, Ionia,' and yo> i' illness.' Every repeaieu perusa jives new delight. The other song t very pleasing. No. LXXIV. MRBTJRNS TO MR THOMSON. ALTERED FROM AN OLD ENGLISH SOX' Air — ' John Anderson my jo.' How cruel are the parent9 Who riches only prize. And to the wealthy booby, SONG. Tune—' Deil tak the w And feel through e Well this is not a a little of the intc ause.it will raise yo 3Z y to any height ye No. LXXV. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. May, 1794. Ten thousand thanks, for your elegant presen' i though I am ashamed of the value of it, bem-; bestowed on a man who has not by any means merited such an instance of kindness. break up the parcel (I v day) knew it at once. IV pl.ments to Allan, who 1 who is making the ft cat's tail, is the most "ill-deedie, dami chin" of mine, wl witty wickedness and BVe " ^g' fell. :, from that propensity t< Itr X.c, ,e of the . No. LXXVI. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. The chance iow, whose promi very early, and s quaiated with tha Bed with Mr Allan's r enough. I am ac- i, who is a prodigy of d a pleasant fellow, You really make me blush when you tell me you have not merited the drawing from me. into the spirit of my undertaking, which could : a fine pathetic a d of * William a: No. LXXYIL MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. In ' Whistle and I'll come to ye, my lad, Here goes what I think is an improvement. O whistle trad I'll come to ye, my lad ; O whistle and I'll come to ye, my lad; Tho' father and mother, and a' should gae Thy Jeany will venture wi' ye, my lad. In fact, a fair dame at whose shrine, I, the Priest of the Nine, offer up the incense of and dispute her conim; SONG. is is no my ain House. O this b no, &c. And aye it charms my very saul, The kind love that's iu her e'e, Do you know that you have roused the tor- pidity of Clarke at last ? He has requested me to write three nr four songs for him, which he is to set to music himself. The inclosed whether I am right ; but that song pleases mi md as it is extremely probable "the Clarke imothered in the fogs of indulgence, if yc ■ ,.jr,.z it ' that * I hare be TO MR CUNNINGHAM. SCOTTISH SONG. Now spring has clad the groves in gr* The fun - r. fo,t it within yon wimpling bur i swift, a silver dart, i beneath the shady thorn Has scorch'd my fountains c The little flow'ret's peaceful 1 And blighted VycLhTn ivaken'd lav'rock warbling springs, d climbs the early sky, be ber dewy wings morning's rosy eye, BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. No. LXXVIII. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Edinburgh, 3d Aug. 1795. SCOTTISH SONG. O bonny was you rosy brier, How pure, araaog the leaves sae green ; They witness'd in their shade yestreen. rhe pathless wild, and n YVi' Chloris in my am Vnd I the world, nor wis Its joys and griefs aliki nthe a copy of the mofmypoe l so many fictitious rever.es or p.is-iuii, the most ardent sentiments of real ), I have so often sung under the name ihip's pledge, my young, fair friend, ' The moraliz'ingmuse. end Since thou, in all thy vout Must bid the world adieu (A world 'gainst peace in fo join the friendly tew. h and eh Since life's gay scenes mast charm r Still much is left behind ; , The comforts of the mind I Thine friendship's truest heart. The joys refined of sense and taste These joys could he improve, Une bagatelle de I'amitie. My eyes have just been gladde led, and my easant things indeed. What ai yours ! It is superfluous to am delighted with all the thr ell as your elegant and tender ve rses to Chlo- I am sorry you should be induce d to alter • lad,' to the rosaicline, • Thy Jeany will've iture wi' ye. s or sings so ell as the former. I wish, tl erefore, you eany, whoever she be, to let the naltered.w I should be happy to see Mr CI few songs to be joined to your v ody acknowledges his ability to coolly before owl of punch wuh the bard ! I shall not fail to give Mr Cunn oil have sent him. F. S The lady's ' For a* tha sensible enough, but no more to your's than 1 to Hercules. No. LXXTX. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. ENGLISH SONG Tune—" Let me in this ae night." imfort near, ir from thee I w -- ill, lake not, this is the i the lines tc the tune c Vnd r,„ m scowls a wintry sk r, shade, nor home these arms of thine, ert, &c. id joy have i, love. Cole :, A , olte id say Oh •d friendship's crue fortune's ruthless d hreak thy faithful that fate is mine, 1 ert, &c. *T rt But d me a 7 though the momen .B«t. only ray of solace sweet DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. Cuess ye how the jad I could bear her, eouU Guess ye how the jad I could bear her. ■week as I fretted wi' care, How do you like the foregoing ? I havi written it within this hour : so much for ths speed of my Pegasus j but what say you to his No, LXXX. R BURNS TO MR THOMSON. SCOTTISH BALLAD. Tune -'The Lothian Lassie.' oer came down the lat ve he did deave me ; :t May The deuce gae wi m, to believe me, believ The deuce trie wi'm, to believe me. He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black e'en, I said'he might die what he liked for Jean, The Lord forgi'e me for lying, for lying, The Lord forgi'e me for lying 1 But thought I might hae waur offers, w But thought I might hae waur offers. But what wad yon think ! in a fortnight or 1< The de il tak is taste o gae near h r ! He up the lang 1 oan to m y black cousit Bess,* * In the origi rial MS. this line rur s, 'He up the Gateslack Bess :' Mr Thomson obi cted to to the word • Da garnock in the next ve rse. Mr Burns replies as ■ r place, ng the Lauth of a ro Nith, where ar uined churc Howev er, let the fi • &c, pity to y thing that gives locality to our eel's verses. glowre is I'd And von'd I was his dear lassie. I spear'd For my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, Gin she had recover'd her hearin, And how her new shoon lit her auld shaclilet feet, But heavens l how he fell a swearin, a But heaven's ! how he fell a swearin. He begged for Gudesake ! I wad be his wif*i I think I maun wed him to-morrow. FRAGMENT. Tune—' The Caledonian Hunt a delight. Why, why tell thy lover. V enjoy.! O why, while fancy, raptured slumber Chloris, Chloris all the theme, Why. why wouldst thou, cruel, Wake thy lover from his dream. Such is the peculiarity of the rhythm of t> No. LXXXL MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 3d June, 179 5. Your English verses to 'Let me in this ae night,' are tender and beautiful; and your ballad to the ' Lothian Lassie' is a master nu ce mom and naivete. The fragment for the ' Caledonian hunt' is quite suited to the rather,' as I said before, have had Bacchanalian less for what we have received, Lord make u; thankful. BURNS. -CORRESPONDENCE. No. LXXXIT. MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 5JA February, 179 Ihe pause you h fall Am I never know and I lam. h yon have been urged by of all our nbellisbed No. LXXXIII. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. February, 1796. Many thanks, my dear sir, for your hand- ToT^ r!mJJngT\ume of Prplndar!- Peter is a delightful fellow/and a first favour- octavo with etchings. I am extremely willing Irish airs I shall "cheerfully undertake the ta a l of finding verses for. I have already, yon know, equipped thret kind of rhapsodv to another Hibernian melody : which I admire" much. HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER. Tune— « Balinamona Ora.' Awa wi' your^witcheraft o' beauty's alarms, a tocher, then hey fo» a* tocher ; the nice yel- The brightest o' beauty may cloy, when pos- But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie im- The langer ye irate them— the mair they're ca. ° Then, hey, &e. If this will do, yon have now four of my Irish engagement. In my bye past songs, I dislike one thing : the name Chloris— I meant it as the fictitious name of a certain lady : gant description of beauty. —Of this also again. — God bless you !* No, LXXXIV. MR THOxMSON TO MR BURNS. Your " Hey for a lass wi* a tocher" is a most excellent song, and with you the subject is something new indeed. It is the first lime 1 have seen you debasing the god of soft de. I am happy to find you approve" of my pro- my choice of them for that work. Indepen- dently of the Hoganhiar " they abound, they exhi b°e felicity. In this respect he himself sa they wilL/ar exceed the aquatinta plates he d etching, he sees clearly what he is doing ; b not so with the aquatinta, which he could n No. LXXXV. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. April, 1796. Mas, my dear Thomson, I fear it will be som lime ere I tune my lyre again ! "By Babe streams I have sat and wept. »' almost ever sine 1 wrote you last ; I have only known existenc Ilk spring they 're new deck yowes. * Our poet i vould have so iv Mr Thomso, DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, «' Say wherefore has an all-indulgen Light to the comfortless and wretche This will be delivered to you 1 Hyslop, landlady if the Globe tav highly delight. Woo'd and r le! The grouping is beyond all praise. The expression of the figures, con- jeSMei formable t j the story in (he ballad, is absolute. perfection. I next admire ' Turn- Igue s by the dear angel smile, What Hike least is, -Jenny said Ig ess by the love-rolling e'e to Jockie. Besides the female being in her Bm\ hy urge the tender confess . . . . if you take her stoop- 'Ga ing inlo th e account, she is at least two inches her lover. Poor Cleghorn ! I sin- Here's a health, &c* eereiy syra pathize with him. Happy I am to think tba he has a well-grounded hope of health and enjoyment in this world. As for me No. LXXXVIII. — but that is a . . . . subject ! No. LXXXV MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. Uh Nay, 1796. Than augh Here's MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. This will be delivered by a Mr Lew '"!>■'•"• No. LXXXVII. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. long admi ed, • He e'e a 1 eallhtothem that's air to your 'IBl "once" en trying to suit it ve to recommend the I will thank you for -s.t load rather I have great hopes that the ; to righis, but as yet I cannot boast I ruy complaint is a flying gout ; a e know how Cleghorn is, and re- ike much to hear fro very poorly,! should No. LXXXIX. MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 12th July, 1796. After all my boasted independence, cursed necf A cruel of a haberdasher, Here's a health (o ane I lo'e dear, ', supposed our poet ha did not live to perform .d that by eese, and will Infallibly pi f r God's sake, seed met! but the horrors of aiail have mad? me half dis- tracted. I do not Sk all this gratuitously ; foi upon returning health, I hereby promise and seen. I : BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. by Mrs Hyslop, 1 ha what manner! eou'd j m- s.iftVrings. Agai. ried my 1 ng. The ossible t hey are c measure is to diffic infuse much geni SONG. rioie—' Rothiem Fa rest maid on Devo for the frankness of your letter of the 12th, and with great pleasure inclose a draft for the very sum I proposed sending. Would I were the Chancellor of the Exchequer but for one day, 1 your melancholy letter from Edinburgh. But lind began to be at times rrorsofajaii p.rpetu-.lly APPENDI X. ay gratify curiosity to know some particulars of the history of the preceding Poems, on ;r of Gilbert Burns, the brother of our Poet, a Mossgid, 2d April, 1798. DEAR SIR, Your letter of the 14th of March I receive none of them, except ' Winter, a Dirge' (which Dying words of poor Mailie, ' and some of the The circumstances of the poor sheep were rret- partly by way of frolic, bought a ewe and two in a Lid adjoining the 'house at Loculie. He ewe had entangled herself in s lying in the ditch. Rob- led with Hughnc's appear- ie plough rights, and when w ' death and dying words' pretty < EpTstle" to DaT witnout any regi made a strong at eived by p , if not su sle; that I !;-",: Al- la. ind that tht ia e J iifKhe the knack f'di ssion_bu in o Ian f uage sea eelyseeme d aBecled, b ed o be then w ral cer D tf jage of the r des, there poet pointing out the co - it we e in : author first ret le Deil. ' The ci :e. « Death am iblished in the I iced early in i] he year 1785. The school- on parish, to eke up the scan- owed to that useful class of p of grocery goods. Having Robert iny : ue ced. It was, I think, m in the interval of hat were weeding in the g: ibody the thought in d concludinz stan- often gotashop-billp overlooking his n;(kail- dan principal part Bcri the first idea of Rob- floa These circumstances h snt is a very portal iout's house ; hencs ing, or with the ro one, and well fit- n of meeting iu a ie phrase of ' going when we had twelve or fifteen young people with their rocks, -that Lapraik's song, begin- le plough: e plough might be brought indebted for the • Cotter's Saturday Night. ' The hint of the plan, and title of the poem, were taken from Fergussoi 'a Farmer's Ingle. ' The Tale of Twa Dogs* was composed after the resolution of publishing was nearly taken. Robert had a dog, which he called Luath, that was a great favourite. The dog had been d that he hi to" the Men i for the purpose of hoi rourite Luath. The firs tseof Dr the parish of Loudon, lg given up the parish L>r Lawrie has several guests, mixed in it. It was a delightful t in,!y the world. His mind was roused to a poetic enthusiasm, and the stanzas, p. 137, were left in the Room where he slept. It was to Ur Lawrie that Dr Blacklock's letter was addres- sed, which my brother, in his letter to Dr Moore, mentions as the reason of his going to Edinburgh. When my father feued his little property near Allowaj-Kirk, the wall of the church- of the adjoining land, for'liberty to rebuild it, b otland, stayed sc i'ue m ■ e neighbourhood, lCa 1 of Gle The A be ere " Un co pack sled of e to Ayr C:'; L.ic' drawing of All -i",' e of his >'■ d a sort f claim ola do In byway of e s-.he sc neof m ny a goc 3C8 quest, provided (he poet vpou sio.y, to be printed along wi was first published in < ' Gro; Scotlaad." DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. lage. Though a rhjmi impulses of the ;, perhaps the partiality, of friend- Tbe ading c can be well attested by jeople in that ne ghbou andfalig lie fe •f 'in ] ■f a world th 10 the always a '°''" ves for co ih. und poetry tsc wnr was accordingly produced ;) - Ordii 'The Address to the Unco Guid ;' Samson's Elegy ;' ' AWinier Night ; ' t at the thought o f being branded inent blockhead obtruding his to jingle a few oggerel Scotch a himself as a 11 consequence fo celebrated poet oose divine elegit fame!' If an, at the word • gen for .all, that he is possessed of some poetic abili- s his publishing uvre below the er which he h erghehim. Bu to the genius or the glorious dawnings of the ate Ferguson, h e, «ilh equally Bar. scorns' 'When C.iloford Guid ; ' '. hind yon hills where Stinchar flows ;' • Gr grow the Rashes;' 'Again rejoicing Nat sees;' 'The gloomy Mght;' « No Chur PREFACE lO THE FIRST EDITION Or BURKS'S POFMS PUBLISHED AT K1LJIARK0CK. v. ish of ev'< ed. Hebe, for educati if after a fi " e shall s Dji CURBIE, Liverpool. To this history of the poems which are a tained in this volume, it ma; be added, t our author appears to have made little alte tioQ in them after their original compositi s genius. Th< r, arising from oners, may, in not, like men of genius born under happie i confirmed, and tie im. which written la: hed after it has fa Erskine, a spunkie Noreland Billie, there appears, in his book of manuscripts, the a.iowiug :_ i'oee, sodger Hugh, my wa:chman stented Ye 'd lend your hand, But when there's ought to say anent it. Ye're at a stand. • Sodger Hugh' is evidently the present Earl of Eglinton, then Colonel Montgomery o< CoilsJield, and representing in Parliament the county of Ayr. Why this was left out in printing, does not appear. The e this : of i.i:. aired, and whose tale he lamented. in ' The Address to the Dei!,' the seven i, in page 17G, ran originally thus : APPENDIX, And Eve was like my bonnie Jean, My dearest part, A dancin', sweet, young, ^handsome que; on poor Mailie, the She was nae get o' moorland tips, She was nae get o' runted rams, Wi' woo' like goals, and legs like trams ; She was the flower o' Fairlie lambs, A famous breed ; Now Robin, greetin, chows the hams O Mailie dead. '.t were a pity.that the Fairlie lambs should lose 1792. Of the poem written in Friar's Car; Hermitage there are several editions, and ot printed poem but the four first lines. Tl poem that is published, which was his secon effort on the subject, received considerable al anuscript the following are inserted, Stay ; the criterion of their fate, Th' important query of their state, Is not, art thou high or low ? Did thy foriune ebb or flow f "Wert thou cottager or king ? Prince or peasant ?— no such thing. raLiea .: y, L- of Correspondence. This nore° trouble than his Scoltish poetrv. On ry, ' Tam o' Shanter seems to have :ct from the author's brain. The July considerable alteration made on reflection s the omission of four lines, which had been md of the dreadful catalogue of the' articles bund on the ' haiy table,' aud which appear- !d in the first edition of the poem, primed sepa- rately. They came after the siiih line from Which even to nam( id are as follow : Three lawyers' tongue DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. And priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck j While summer, win a matron's glace, Walks stately in the cooling shade ; ' And oft delighted lo es to trace The progress of the spiky blade ; While autumn, benefactor kind. With age's hoary honours clad, excited, were very properly ieft out of the print- ed collection, by the advice of Mr Fraser Surveys, with self-approving mi„d, Each creature on his bounty ted, &c Tytler; to which Bums seems to have paid By the alteration in the printed poem, it m be questioned whether the poetry is much i 6. ' The Address to the shade of Thomson ,' proved ; the poet however has found means page 217, began in the manuscript copy m ihe introduce the shades of Dryburgh, theresiden following manner: While cold-eyed Spring, a virgin coy, Unfolds her verdant mantle sweet. These observations might be extended, b what are already offered will satisfy curiusil A carpet for her youthful feet : and there is nothing ol any importance th could he added. GLOSSARY. The ch and gh have always the guttural sound. The sound of (he English diphthong oo, is ton monly spelled ou. The French u, a sound which often occurs in the ocottUk "laiigu^e, followed by e mute after a single consonant, sounds generally like the broaJ~English a in 7i'a The Scottish diphthong ■*, always, and ea, very often, sound like the French, e uiasculm The Scottish diphthong ey, sounds like the Latin eu Aff, off; Affloof, u Afore, before. Aft, oft. Airn ; iron. ' Anilher, another. Ase, ashes. Asklent, asquint ; aslant, Bad, did bid. Baide, endured, did I Baggie, the belly. Banie, having large 1 irefit, barefooted, irmie, of, or like barm, itch, a crew, a gang, eet, to add fuel to fire. -Id, bald. elyve, by and by. en, into the spence or parlou r; aspe ethankit, grace after meat. cker, a kind of wooden dish el or Bield, shelter, en, wealthy, plentiful. ; a shor ggin, building; a house. if, a' bull." Hie, a brother ; a young fe! ng, a heap of grain, potaloe r&* n-shaw, Biichen-wood-shavi Blastie, a shrivelled Blastit, ' BURNS. -GLOSSARV, Brither, a brol Brock, a badgi Brogue, a hun :, bashful, sheepish. any think ; t with rheum. Bleth'rin', Blink, a lil kindly ; Blype, a Bock, to ^ er, a stupid p a large piece. bed. von all gold cc ie or Bonny, handsome, ock, a kind of thick all jannock, or loaf mad' tree, the shrub elder ; in hedges of bam-vard; t, behaved, „mi u ill..- 1 all. "■;P. iking. Brackens, fern, Brae.adeclivtty; Braid, broad. eeled forward, o run rashly forwi :jrau] or B awlie, Ilea lily ::.- e a. live of bre :;i-.as Jreok Xireuf, rable or i itane, brimstone, et, the breast, the be i, ale-house wives. t, did bun lo burst Bucban.bullers, the boiling of the sea the rocks of Buchan. Buckskin, an inhabitant of Virginia. Bught, a pen, Bughtin-time, the time of collecting tl ''--Dens to be milked. nthet ^^ •, fresh ; sound ; refreshing, lie, dexterously ; gently.' Cartes, cards. , a caldro Cauk an d keel, ch Ik and red clay. Cauld, Caup, a nking vessel. Cesses, Chanter a bagpipe. Chap, a person, a ellow ; a blow. Chaup, blow, >r Cheel, a young fellow. Chimla or Cliimlie, a fire-grate, a fire-plac Chinils.lug, the fireside. Chittering, shivering, trembling. Chockin, choking-. Chow, to chew : Cheek for chow, side by si Chuffie, fat-faced, a small village about a church hanil irClae GLOSSARY. Crack, conversation ; to converse Crackin, conversing. Craft, or croft, a field near a husbandry), Craiks, cries or calls incessantly Crambo-clink or Crambo-jingle, Craw, the crow of a Clae, to Clauted :;"-- !fto sera rid hold of. ' ' io> )scr atch. Cleeds, clothes!' Cleekit, hav right. Clinkin Clinkurc hew hon Clips, s Clishma r, id' Clock, eh ; i beetle. Clockin ha ching Cloot, the he of of , sheep, * met' the devil. Clour, a well Cluds, clone Coaxin ediir, Coble, a fish rogbo Coft, bought. Cost, a wooden dish. Coggie, diminutive of cog. Coila, from Kyle, a district of Avrshi'e ; called, saiih tradition, from Coil, or Coilu a Pictish monarch. Collie, a general and sometimes a particul Collieshangie, quarrelling, an uproar. Coof, a blockhead, nmny. Cookit, appeared and disappeared by fits. Coot, the ancle or foot. fowls whose legs are clad with feathers a: Corbies, a species "of the crow. C^rn'd C ,°fed wnhoa'ts? *"' Cotter, the inhabitant of a cot-house, or co lo keep under, to lop ; t Cozie, snug. Coziely, snuglv. Crabbit, crabbed, fret dk4 bull Croon Crone ng, humming. lie, crook backed Cross- , cheerful ; conr ly, cheerfully ; c ourageously. ed « ater, sometimes from the broth of on, &c le-time, breakfas CrowL Crommock, a cow with crooked horns. , hard and brittl a blow on the he Cui;, i blockhead, a ni ock, a short staff with a crooked he 'J.iroh e, a courtesy. . a well known game c Cutty, short ; a spoon broken in the middle. Cutty-stool, the stool of repentance. DADDIE, a father. Damn, merriment ; foolis Daft, merry, giddy ; fool Dainty, pleasant, good hi Daise or Daez, to stupify Daks, plains, valleys! Daxklins, darkling. Daud, to thrash, to abusf Dawtit or D Dearias, din Dearthfu', d BURNS.-GLOSSARY. or Dizz'n, tremulous stroke c Doucely, soberly, pri. Dought, was or were Doup, backside. Drouki" Drummock, mea Dub, a small pond, iiuds, rags, clothes. Daddie, ragged. Dung, worsted ; pushed, Dunted, beaten, boxed. e, frighted, d ok, tbee'lbo* Enbrugh, Edinburgh. Eneugb, enough. Especial, especially. FA', fall ; Fa's, does Faddom't, , frighiful. Fecht, frighted. to tight. lechl! a, fighting. Feck, quantity, plenty Fecke coat with slee Fe,;f ', large, brawn iv.kit ss, puny, weak silly. Fccv: ; Feg, a fllTel'mit Fe.Je, Feire, healthy. een, biting; th flesh immed he skin ; a field pretty level, o or lop of a bill. Fen, s uccessful strngg e; fight. Fend, to lire comforta bly. Ferlie or Ferley, to of contempt. Fetch to puil by fits. Fetch : . ■ to fidget. F,e.", s F.ei.t, th. Fier, a brother ; fr Fissle to make a rui tliDg noise; iailering. re to frighten, BUllxNS.-GLOSSARY. Forgfe, tr'forgu'e!'' IVj=,!:et, jaded with falig! Foluer, fodder. Fou, full ; drunk. Foughten, troubled, harass Foutl Fow, a el. &c; Fyl't, soiled, dirtied. G Gab, the mouth ; to speak boldly, or pertly. Gaberlunzie, an old man. J P _ horses in the pfough.' Gear, riches'; go, ds of any k ! nd. Ged.a'pike! Gentles, great folk, gentry. (il.iU i M, aimed, sna tched. Gleck, ', !p -' rlebe.' Glen',' G side wrong"' ' '° squint ; i;ii!.'-g bbet, smooth and read Glint, G inte , peeped. Glintin • P«eplng. Gloam n, thetwi.bl ulowr ok ; a st Glowr d, looked, sta ed. weed .V Gowan , d Gowff, does ',':: go r a e tgoif.° sir ke ck. c. Gowl, ol Grane, n, a groan; to grc ai de runted, groans da S» Graip, ?' for Graith trements, furn e, d t.ranni ra dmother. ; to bear tiie gree, !o b !, loathsomely grii gooseberry. a grunt , to grun ndVuidwil'. the , Guid-father, guid-niother, fa;t BURNS GLOSSARY. Haffet, the temple, the side of the h. Hafflins, nearly half, partly. Hag, a scar, or gulf in mosses, and Haggis, a kind of pudding boiled i hopping, arkenei' at of turf at the 31st of October. p and leap. Hawkie, a Heapit, hea Heather, heath. &c Heeze, to elevate, 1< Helm, the rudder cr Herd, to tend flocks Herrin, a herring Herry, jt o plunder ; : Hers"e™herself'°riso T E Het, hot. Hilch, 'a hobble; to Hilchin, halting. le who tends flocks. it properly to plunder Hiney, honey. Hing, to hang. Hirple, lo walk era ily, to creep. Hissel, so many ca tie as one person c n at- Hasiie, dry; chapp d ; barren. Hitch, a loop, a kn Hizzie, a hussy, a oung girl. HoJdin, the motion ofasagecountryma nrid- e; humLle. f distance line, in cu rling, ink. Hog-shouther, a kin d of horse play, by it slling with the shoulder ; to jostle. Hool, outer skin or case, a nut shell; a pease. Hoord, a hoard ; to I Hoordit, hoarded. Horn, a spoon made < d topsyturvy ; blended, m utive of house. ■, to swell. , swelled. "'a hollow or dell. unk in the Lack, spoken ng house; a house of resoi i amble crazily. diminutive of Hugh. i, a hedgehog, the loms ; the crupper. at-grandchild. each, every, -natured, malici Ingle, fire; fire-plac BLRNS.—GLOSSARY. Keckle, log.ggle; to titter. Keek, a peep, to peep. Kelpies, a sort of miscbievo up the clothes. ; Kin', kind, (a-ijO Kith, kindred. Kittle, totick:e; tie! Kiltlin, a young cat. Kmttle, to cuddle. Kiuttlir., cuddling. Knappin-hammeV,' ; Knowe.'a small r.u. Knurl, a dwarf. Kve, cows. Kyle, a district in A Kyte, the belly. Kythe, to discover; Lane, 1, :iadofsbell-fish, a limpit. i my lane, thy lane, &c. myse Lanely, lonely. Lang, long ; To think 1 Lap, did leap. Leal, loyal, true, faithful. Lea-rig, grassy ridge. Lear, (pronounced larej, le; l, tripping. ^ I. inn, Lint, Linti , Limwhite, a Lintw L..un or loanin, the Loof, the palm of the I I, did let. Loove s, plural of loo Lou., jump, leap. J.OV-F Low. i owr , flaming, e, abbreviation Low, l.nw = d, loosed. BURNS.— GLOSSARY. Wanted, a mantle. Mark, marks. (This and several other which in English require ao s, to foi plural, are in Scottish, like the words Wind! n, a dunghill!' root. Ni i.J. hill n-hole, a gutter « t the bottom of a dung P. trick, a partridge. Mini, prim, affectedly meet. Pa Wi,.\ Pa Wind t, mind it ; reso ved, intending. Pa ritch, oatmeal pudding, Moistify, to m Mony, or Mon Wools, dust, < Norland, of 01 Notic't, notici Nowte, black belonging to the north. Pattle, or Penle, a plough-staff. Paughty, proud, haughty. Pauky, or Pawkie, cunning, sly. se, fair speeches, flattery ; to flatter. sin, flattery. ch, Highland war rr.usic adapted to ll Placad, public proclamati Plack, an old Scottish coi S c °V/fu h . p . e _ n .7» ,welv " Pou, o Puuk, t BURNS CLOSSARY. Roopet, hoa Routaie, pie Ieof neighbomhord. RAGWEED, the 1 Rax, to Ream, c Reamin; Rief, Reef, p'renty. Hunt, Rath, i. Rjke, : reach. SAE, ban, = & Sairly, Sark, ' Sa.klt, - rhd:' 1 '' >g; to loathe. ] as n hen, pal iffftlj alon ? . Shackled, distorted ; sh'apeles; Siangan, a stick cleft at one bellion, A.D. 1715. BURNS — GLOSSARY. Sk. 'V';." S- proacbful Sk- ',',"1; p P ; n? , w ■«■* . ce S:-: - " - ysbrillj. sk ;i >"- ,1) ieking. rying. Ski 6 truth. as am, t Ski snted n, or hit in an obi Slid.: did slide. Slap. agate; a Slaver Slaw, slow. Sire, 1, ; sire: Sleeki , sleek; s Slidd, Slype plou g°- : .y ll; . , fell. Sr owk to seen ors uff, a s a d. -;. *« Uflrd. So :;;" having swee , enga • flexible a shoem ft. So al'soure made of oa . fluu meal the e Spaul, a limb. Spaviet, having the spa Spean, Spane, to wean. Speat, or Spate, a swee or thaw. Speel, to climb. Spence, tbecounlry par Spior, achle, ic Sprattle, to scramble. Spreckled, spotted, speckled. Spritlie.'ful) of spirits. Spunkie, rueitlesome, fiery; will o*w ignis faluus. Slang, an acute pain ; a twinge ; lo sling. Stank, did stink; a pool of standing water. -GLOSSARY. ge, a target. stocking; Thro it will'be man Sloyte, to stumble. Strack, did strike. Strae, straw ; to die a fai a natural death. Straik, did strike. Siraikit, stroked. Strappin, tall and handso Straught, straight, to stra sturdily; huff, sullenness. Stuff, corn or pulse of any kind. Sturt, trouble ; to molest. Sturtin, frighted. Sud, should. Sugh, the continued rushing noise of wind c Southron, southern ; an old name for th rapping young Swap, an exehanse ; t Swarf, to swoon fas- Swat, did sweat Swatch, a sample. Swats, drink ; good al an eddying blast, < ;, full of knots. TACKETS, a kind of nails for drivins intt the heels of shoes. Tae, a toe ; three-tae'd, having three prongs. Tauted, or Tautie, matted log of hair or wool. Tawie, that allows itself pea handled ; spoken of a horse, c ther- V oke ceably to be Teat, a small quantity. Tedding, spreading after the mo Ten-hours bite, a slight feed while in the yoke, in the foren l> b °"" Tentless, heedless. Teugh, tough. Thack, thatch; Thack £ Thairms, small guts ; fiddle-sirii Thankit, thanked. Theekit, thatched. Themsel, 'themselves. Thieveless, cold, dry, spited ; person's demeanour. Thir, these. Thirl, thrill. Thirled, thrilled, vibrated. Thole, to suffer, to endure. Thraw, Thrawn , spraine d, twisted'; Threap, ain by dint Threshi a, thrasl Thrette Thristle Throng Throutb , to go mell, co'nfu Thud, t Thysel, thyself/ Tdl't, I Timmcr ti'mlvr. Tine, to lose ; T Tinkler, a tinker Tint the gate, lo Tip, a r Tippenc , twope Tirl, to make as ight noise ; Trig, spruce, neat. Trimly, excellently. Trowt'h, truth, a petty oath. Tryste, an appointment , a fair. Trysted, appointed ; To tryste, hide, of which in old times plough- Quantity, a penny worth. N. B. One penny Enjrlish is 12d. Scotch. Twin, to part. tyke, a dog. U UNCO, strange, uncouth ; very, very great, prodigious. Unken'n'd, unknown. Unsicker, unsure, unsteady. Unskaith d, undamaged, unhurt. Unweeting, unwitt ngly, unknowingly. Upo*. upon. Urchin, a hedgehog. VAPRIN, vapouring. Wajna, would not. LOSSAKY. Wamefu', a belly-full. Wauble, to swing, to reel. Waught, a draught. Waukii, thickened aa fullers do cloth Waukrife, not apt to sleep. Weelfi. Uo shall. •A h wheeze Wheep, to fly nimbly, jerk; pern Whase. whose. Whid, the i n of a har frighted ; Whiddin, running as a hare or eon; Whigmeleerios, whims, fane es, cri Whingin, crying, complaining, fret Wh.rligigums, useless ori.amenls, I pendages. Whissle, a whistle ; to whistle. Whisht, silence ; to hold one's Wh Whisk.'to sweep, to lash- BURNS.- GLOSSARY. w ;;;"!■;■ w l!'/to"i w \i w ntU, a Win, to winnow. Wordy, worthy. ■\Vcrs2 , worsted. e or W end r. Yird, ea YoureeJ, Wraith, a spirit, or ghost ; an actly like a living person, whc is said to forbode the persot' apparition " appears ing Yowe, a Yuk, e c GLASGOW; 61* ■f A <-^ .^% v y^jj ^ v % ^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: March 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 (724)779-2111